DUKE 

UNIVERSITY 

LIBRARY 


COLLECTION 


3^,405  ( iflb , 4/r/  «/^fr  yg<r,‘/a&  ,«/«?£ 

*T 

T' 


-Apri\  ‘8TB  ’-  A*-a.  Tory's  Itrs 
*' * ' ^Jropot . M^e>v 

-H57  .--f. 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
in  2017  with  funding  from 
Duke  University  Libraries 


https://archive.org/details/memoirsofrevolut02krop 


MEMOIRS 

OF  A 

REVOLUTIONIST 


BY 

P.  KROPOTKIN 


BOSTON  AND  NEW  YORK 
HOUGHTON  MIFFLIN  COMPANY 
ditoergibe  ptedjg  CambriDge 


COPYRIGHT,  1899,  BY  HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  & CO. 


ALL  RIGHTS  RESERVED 


NOTE 


This  book  probably  would  not  have  been  written  for 
Borne  time  to  come,  but  for  the  kind  invitation  and  most 
friendly  encouragement  of  the  editor  and  the  publishers  of 
“ The  Atlantic  Monthly  ” to  write  it  for  serial  publication  in 
their  magazine.  I feel  it  a most  pleasant  duty  to  express 
here  my  very  best  thanks  for  the  hospitality  that  was  offered 
to  me,  and  for  the  friendly  pressure  that  was  exercised  to 
induce  me  to  undertake  this  work.  It  was  published  in 
“ The  Atlantic  Monthly  ” (September,  1898,  to  September, 
1899),  under  the  title,  “ The  Autobiography  of  a Revolu- 
tionist.” Preparing  it  now  for  publication  in  book  form, 
I have  added  considerably  to  the  original  text  in  the  parts 
dealing  with  my  youth  and  my  stay  in  Siberia,  and  es- 
pecially in  the  Sixth  Part,  in  which  I have  told  the  story 
of  my  life  in  Western  Europe. 

P.  Keop<Stkin. 

Bbomlxt,  Kent,  October,  1899. 


■ 


...  ' • (,  i : if  rf  i 


CONTENTS 


PASS 

Intboduction  by  Geobq  Bbandes vii 

PART  FIRST 

Childhood . « 1 

PART  SECOND 

The  Cobps  of  Pages 71 

PART  THIRD 

SlBEBIA 154 

PART  FOURTH 

St.  Petebbbubu;  Fibst  Joubney  to  Western  Europe  . 224 

PART  FIFTH 

The  Fobtbess;  The  Escape  ......  343 

PART  SIXTH 

IVestebn  Europe 378 


NOTE  ON  THE  PORTRAITS 

The  frontispiece  portrait  of  P.  Kropotkin  is  from  a photograph 
(abont  1886)  by  Nadar,  Paris.  The  one  facing  page  210  shows  him 
at  the  age  of  twenty-two,  and  is  from  a photograph  by  Bergamasco, 
St.  Petersburg.  That  of  his  mother,  Ekaterina  Nikoldevna  Kropdtkin 
(facing  page  12),  is  from  a painting. 


- 

■ «• 

, 


' 


INTRODUCTION 


The  autobiographies  we  owe  to  great  minds  have  gen- 
erally been  of  one  of  the  three  following  types  : “ So  far  I 
went  astray  ; thus  I found  the  true  path”  (St.  Augustine)  ; 
or,  “ So  had  was  I,  hut  who  dare  consider  himself  better  ?” 
(Rousseau)  ; or,  “ This  is  the  way  a genius  has  slowly 
been  evolved  from  within  and  by  favorable  surroundings  ” 
(Goethe).  In  all  these  forms  of  self-representation  the 
author  is  mainly  occupied  with  himself. 

In  the  nineteenth  century  the  autobiographies  of  men  of 
mark  are  very  often  shaped  on  these  lines : “ So  talented 
and  attractive  was  I ; such  appreciation  and  admiration  I 
won ! ” (Johanne  Louise  Heiberg,  “ A Life  lived  over  in 
Recollection  ” ).  Or,  “ So  talented  was  I and  so  worthy 
of  being  loved,  but  yet  so  unappreciated ; and  these  were 
the  hard  struggles  I went  through  before  I won  the 
crown  of  fame  ” (Hans  Christian  Andersen,  “ The  Story 
of  my  Life  ”).  In  these  two  classes  of  life-records,  the 
author  is  occupied  only  with  what  his  fellow  men  have 
thought  of  him  and  said  about  him. 

The  author  of  the  autobiography  before  us  is  not  intent 
upon  his  own  capabilities,  and  consequently  describes  no 
struggle  to  gain  recognition.  Still  less  does  he  care  for 
the  opinions  of  his  fellow  men  about  himself ; what  others 
have  thought  of  him  he  mentions  only  once,  with  a single 
word. 

There  is  in  this  work  no  gazing  upon  one’s  image.  The 
author  is  not  one  of  those  who  willingly  speak  of  them- 
selves ; he  does  so  reluctantly  and  with  a certain  shyness. 
There  is  here  no  confession  that  reveals  the  inner  self,  no 


viii 


INTRODUCTION 


sentimentality,  and  no  cynicism.  The  author  speaks  neither 
of  his  sins  nor  of  his  virtues ; he  enters  into  no  vulgar 
intimacy  with  his  reader.  He  does  not  say  when  he  fell 
in  love,  and  so  little  touches  upon  his  relations  with  the 
other  sex  that  he  even  does  not  mention  his  marriage ; we 
learn  only  incidentally  that  he  is  married  at  all.  That  he 
is  a father,  and  a very  loving  one,  he  finds  time  to  mention 
but  once  in  his  rapid  review  of  the  last  sixteen  years  of 
his  life. 

He  is  more  anxious  to  give  the  psychology  of  his  con- 
temporaries than  of  himself.  One  finds  in  his  book  the 
psychology  of  official  Russia  and  of  the  masses  under- 
neath, of  Russia  struggling  forward  and  of  Russia  stagnant. 
And  he  strives  to  give  the  history  of  his  contemporaries 
rather  than  his  own  history.  The  record  of  his  life  con- 
tains, consequently,  the  history  of  Russia  during  his  life- 
time, as  well  as  the  history  of  the  labor  movement  in 
Europe  during  the  last  half-century.  When  he  plunges 
into  his  own  inner  world,  we  see  the  outer  world  reflected 
in  it. 

There  is,  nevertheless,  in  this  book,  analogous  with 
Goethe’s  aim  in  “ Dichtung  und  Wahrheit,”  a representa- 
tion of  how  a remarkable  mind  has  been  shaped ; and,  in 
analogy  with  the  “ Confessions  ” of  St.  Augustine,  we  have 
the  story  of  an  inner  crisis  which  corresponds  with  what  in 
olden  times  was  called  “ conversion.”  In  fact,  this  inner 
crisis  is  the  turning-point  and  the  core  of  the  book. 

There  are  at  this  moment  only  two  great  Russians  who 
think  for  the  Russian  people,  and  whose  thoughts  belong 
to  mankind,  — Leo  Tolstdy  and  Peter  Kropbtkin.  Tolstdy 
has  often  told  us,  in  poetical  shape,  parts  of  his  life. 
Kropdtkin  gives  us  here  for  the  first  time,  without  any 
poetical  recasting,  a rapid  survey  of  his  whole  career. 

However  radically  different  these  two  men  are,  there  is 
ene  parallel  which  can  be  drawn  between  their  lives  and 


INTRODUCTION 


ix 

their  views  of  life.  Tolstdy  is  an  artist,  Kropdtkin  is  a 
man  of  science ; but  neither,  at  a certain  period  of  his  life, 
could  find  peace  in  continuing  the  work  to  which  he  had 
brought  great  inborn  capacities.  Religious  considerations 
brought  Tolstdy,  social  considerations  brought  Kropdtkin, 
to  abandon  the  paths  they  had  first  taken.  Both  are  filled 
with  love  for  mankind ; and  they  are  at  one  in  the  severe 
condemnation  of  the  indifference,  the  thoughtlessness,  the 
crudeness,  and  brutality  of  the  upper  classes,  as  well  as  in 
the  attraction  they  both  feel  for  the  life  of  the  down- 
trodden and  ill-used  man  of  the  people.  Both  see  more 
cowardice  than  stupidity  in  the  world.  Both  are  idealists, 
and  both  have  the  reformer’s  temperament.  Both  are  peace- 
loving  natures,  and  Kropdtkin  is  the  more  peaceful  of  the 
two,  — although  Tolstdy  always  preaches  peace  and  con- 
demns those  who  take  right  into  their  own  hands  and 
resort  to  force,  while  Kropdtkin  justifies  their  action  and 
was  on  friendly  terms  with  the  terrorists.  The  point 
upon  which  they  differ  most  is  their  attitude  toward  the 
intelligent  educated  man  and  toward  science,  which  in  his 
religious  passion  Tolstdy  disdains  and  disparages,  while 
Kropdtkin  holds  both  in  high  esteem,  although  at  the  same 
time  he  condemns  men  of  science  for  forgetting  the  people 
and  the  misery  of  the  people. 

Many  a man  and  many  a woman  has  accomplished  a 
great  life-work  without  having  led  a great  life.  Many 
people  are  interesting,  although  their  lives  may  have  been 
quite  insignificant  and  commonplace.  Kropdtkin’s  life  is 
both  great  and  interesting. 

One  will  find  in  this  volume  a combination  of  all  the 
elements  out  of  which  an  intensely  eventful  life  is  com- 
posed : idyl  and  tragedy,  drama  and  romance.  The  childhood 
in  Moscow  and  in  the  country,  the  portraits  of  his  mother, 
sisters,  and  teachers,  or  of  the  old  and  trusty  servants,  and 
the  many  pictures  of  patriarchal  life  are  done  in  such  a 


X 


INTRODUCTION 


masterly  way  that  every  heart  will  be  touched  by  them. 
The  landscapes,  the  story  of  the  unusually  intense  love 
between  the  two  brothers,  — all  this  is  pure  idyl.  Side 
by  side  with  these  things  there  is,  unhappily,  plenty  of 
sorrow  and  suffering : the  harshness  in  family  life,  the 
cruel  treatment  of  the  serfs,  and  the  narrow-mindedness  and 
heartlessness  which  are  the  ruling  stars  of  men’s  destinies. 

There  is  variety  and  there  are  dramatic  catastrophes  ; life 
at  court  and  life  in  prison ; life  in  the  highest  Russian 
society,  with  emperors  and  grand  dukes,  and  life  in  poverty, 
with  the  working  proletariat,  in  London  and  in  Switzer- 
land. There  are  changes  of  costume  as  in  a drama,  the 
chief  actor  having  to  appear  during  the  day  in  fine  dress  in 
the  Winter  Palace,  and  in  the  evening  in  peasant’s  clothes 
in  the  suburbs,  as  a preacher  of  revolution.  And  there  is, 
too,  the  sensational  element  that  belongs  to  the  novel. 
Although  nobody  could  be  simpler  in  tone  and  style  than 
Kropdtkin,  nevertheless  parts  of  his  tale,  from  the  very 
nature  of  the  events  he  has  to  tell,  are  more  intensely  ex- 
citing than  any  part  of  those  novels  which  aim  only  at 
being  sensational.  One  reads  with  breathless  interest  of 
the  preparations  for  the  escape  from  the  hospital  of  the 
fortress  of  St.  Peter  and  St.  Paul,  and  the  bold  execution 
of  the  plan. 

Few  men  have  moved,  as  Kropdtkin  did,  in  all  classes  of 
society ; few  know  all  these  classes  as  he  does.  "What  a 
picture  ! — Kropdtkin,  as  a little  boy  with  curled  hair,  in 
a fancy  dress  costume,  standing  by  the  Emperor  Nicholas, 
or  running  after  the  Emperor  Alexander  as  his  page,  with 
the  idea  of  protecting  him.  And  then  that  other  picture : 
Kropdtkin  in  a terrible  prison,  sending  away  the  Grand 
Duke  Nicholas,  or  listening  to  the  growing  insanity  of  a 
peasant  who  is  confined  in  a cell  under  his  very  feet. 

He  has  lived  the  life  of  the  aristocrat  and  of  the  worker ; 
he  has  been  page  de  chambre  of  the  Emperor  and  an  impecu* 


INTRODUCTION 


zi 


nious  writer ; he  has  lived  the  life  of  the  student,  the  officer, 
the  man  of  science,  the  explorer  of  unknown  lands,  the 
administrator,  and  the  hunted  revolutionist.  In  exile  he 
has  had  at  times  to  live  upon  tea  and  bread  as  a Russian 
peasant,  and  he  has  been  exposed  to  espionage  and  murder 
plots  like  a Russian  emperor. 

Few  men  have  had  an  equally  wide  field  of  experience. 
Just  as  Kropdtkin  is  able,  as  a geologist,  to  survey  prehis- 
toric evolution  for  hundreds  of  thousands  of  years  past,  so 
too  he  has  assimilated  the  whole  historical  evolution  of  his 
own  times.  To  the  literary  and  scientific  education  which 
is  won  in  the  study  and  in  the  university  (such  as  the 
knowledge  of  languages,  belles-lettres,  philosophy,  and 
higher  mathematics),  he  added  at  an  early  stage  of  his  life 
that  education  which  is  gained  in  the  workshop  and  the 
laboratory,  as  also  in  the  open  field,  — the  study  of  natural 
science,  military  science,  fortification,  machines,  and  fac- 
tories. His  intellectual  equipment  is  universal. 

How  this  active  mind  must  have  suffered  when  he  was 
reduced  to  the  inactivity  of  prison  life ! What  a test  of 
endurance,  and  what  an  exercise  in  stoicism ! Kropdtkin 
says  somewhere  that  a morally  developed  personality  must 
be  at  the  foundation  of  every  organization.  That  applies 
to  him.  Life  has  made  of  him  one  of  the  corner-stones  for 
the  building  of  the  future. 

The  crisis  in  Kropdtkin’s  life  has  two  turning-points 
which  must  be  mentioned. 

He  approaches  his  thirtieth  year,  the  decisive  year  in  a 
man’s  life.  With  heart  and  soul  he  is  a man  of  science  ; 
he  has  made  a valuable  scientific  discovery.  He  has  found 
out  that  the  maps  of  Northern  Asia  are  incorrect;  not  only 
that  the  old  conceptions  of  the  geography  of  Asia  are  wrong, 
but  that  the  theories  of  Humboldt  are  also  in  conflict 
with  the  facts.  For  more  than  two  years  he  has  plunged 
into  laborious  research.  Then,  all  of  a sudden,  he  sees  on 


xii 


INTRODUCTION 


a certain  day  flash  upon  him  the  true  relations  of  the  facts ; 
he  understands  that  the  main  lines  of  structure  in  Asia 
are  not  from  north  to  south  or  from  west  to  east,  but  from 
the  southwest  to  the  northeast.  He  submits  his  discovery 
to  test,  he  applies  it  to  numerous  separated  facts,  and  it 
stands  the  test.  Now  he  knows  the  joys  of  scientific  reve- 
lation in  the  highest  and  purest  form  ; he  feels  how  ele- 
vating is  their  action  on  the  mind. 

Then  comes  the  crisis.  Sorrow  follows,  because  these 
joys  are  the  lot  of  so  few.  He  asks  himself  whether  he  has 
the  right  to  enjoy  them  alone.  He  feels  that  there  is  a 
higher  duty,  — to  do  his  part  in  bringing  to  the  mass  of  the 
people  the  knowledge  already  gained  rather  than  to  work  at 
making  new  discoveries. 

For  my  part  I do  not  think  that  he  was  right.  With 
such  conceptions  Pasteur  would  not  have  been  the  bene- 
factor of  mankind  that  he  has  been.  After  all,  everything, 
in  the  last  resort,  is  to  the  benefit  of  the  mass  of  the  peo- 
ple. I think  that  one  does  the  utmost  for  the  well-being 
of  all  when  one  achieves  the  most  intense  production  that 
one  can.  But  this  fundamental  notion  is  characteristic  of 
Kropotkin  ; it  gives  his  essence. 

And  this  tendency  of  his  mind  carries  him  further.  In 
Finland,  where  he  has  gone  to  make  a new  scientific  dis- 
covery, as  he  comes  to  the  idea  — which  was  heresy  then 
— that  in  prehistoric  times  all  Northern  Europe  was  buried 
under  ice,  he  is  so  much  impressed  with  compassion  for  the 
poor,  the  suffering,  who  often  know  hunger  in  their  strug- 
gle for  bread,  that  he  considers  it  his  highest,  absolute  duty 
to  become  a teacher  and  a helper  of  the  great  working  and 
destitute  masses.  Soon  after  that  a new  world  opens  before 
him,  — the  life  of  the  working  classes,  — and  he  learns 
from  those  whom  he  intends  to  teach. 

Five  or  six  years  later  the  crisis  appears  in  its  second 
phase.  It  happens  in  Switzerland.  Already  during  his 


INTRODUCTION 


xiii 


first  stay  in  that  country  Kropotkin  had  abandoned  the 
group  of  state  socialists,  from  fear  of  an  economic  despo- 
tism, from  hatred  of  centralization,  from  love  for  the  free- 
dom of  the  individual  and  the  community.  However,  it  is 
only  after  his  long  imprisonment  in  Russia,  during  his  sec- 
ond stay  among  the  intelligent  workers  of  western  Switzer- 
land, that  the  conception,  which  has  floated  before  his  eyes, 
of  a new  structure  of  society  more  distinctly  dawns  upon 
him  as  a society  of  federated  associations,  cooperating  in 
about  the  same  way  as  railway  companies,  or  the  postal 
departments  of  separate  countries,  cooperate  now.  He 
knows  that  he  cannot  dictate  to  the  future  the  lines  which 
it  will  have  to  follow ; he  is  convinced  that  all  must  grow 
out  of  the  constructive  activity  of  the  masses,  but  for  illus- 
tration’s sake  he  compares  the  coming  structure  with  the 
guilds  and  the  mutual  relations  which  existed  in  mediaeval 
times,  and  were  worked  out  from  below.  He  does  not 
believe  at  all  in  the  distinction  between  leaders  and  led ; 
but  I must  confess  that  I am  old-fashioned  enough  to  feel 
pleased  when  Kropdtkin,  by  a slight  inconsistency,  says 
once  in  praise  of  a friend  that  he  was  “ a born  leader.” 

The  author  describes  himself  as  a revolutionist,  and  he 
is  surely  quite  right  in  so  doing.  But  seldom  have  there 
been  revolutionists  as  humane  and  as  mild  as  he  is.  One 
feels  astounded  when  in  one  passage  — where  he  speaks  of 
the  possibility  of  an  armed  conflict  with  the  Swiss  police  — 
a fighting  instinct  appears  in  his  character,  as  it  exists  in 
the  characters  of  all  of  us.  He  cannot  say  precisely  whether 
he  and  his  friends  felt  a relief  at  being  spared  a fight,  or  a 
regret  that  the  fight  did  not  take  place.  This  expression 
of  feeling  stands  alone.  He  has  never  been  an  avenger,  but 
always  a martyr. 

He  does  not  impose  sacrifices  upon  others  : he  makes 
them  himself.  All  his  life  he  has  done  it,  but  in  such  a 
way  that  the  sacrifice  seems  to  have  cost  him  nothing,  so 


XIV 


INTRODUCTION 


little  does  he  make  of  it.  And  with  all  his  energy  he  is  so 
little  vindictive  that  of  a disgusting  prison  doctor  he  only 
remarks : “ The  less  said  of  him  the  better.” 

He  is  a revolutionist  without  emphasis,  and  without  em- 
blem. He  laughs  at  the  oaths  and  ceremonies  with  which 
conspirators  bind  themselves  in  dramas  and  operas.  This 
man  is  simplicity  personified.  In  character  he  stands  com- 
parison with  any  of  the  fighters  for  freedom  of  any  coun- 
try. None  have  been  more  disinterested  than  he,  none 
have  loved  mankind  more  than  he  does. 

But  he  would  not  permit  me  to  say  in  the  beginning  of 
his  book  all  the  good  that  I think  of  him,  and  should  I say 
it  my  words  would  outrun  the  limits  of  a reasonable  Intro- 
duction. 


Georg  Brandes. 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


PART  FIRST 
CHILDHOOD 
I 

Moscow  is  a city  of  slow  historical  growth,  and  down 
to  the  present  time  its  different  parts  have  wonderfully  well 
retained  the  features  which  have  been  stamped  upon  them 
in  the  slow  course  of  history.  The  Trans-Moskva  River 
district,  with  its  broad,  sleepy  streets  and  its  monotonous 
gray-painted,  low-roofed  houses,  of  which  the  entrance- 
gates  remain  securely  bolted  day  and  night,  has  always  been 
the  secluded  abode  of  the  merchant  class,  and  the  strong- 
hold of  the  outwardly  austere,  formalistic,  and  despotic 
Nonconformists  of  the  “ Old  Faith.”  The  citadel,  or 
Kreml,  is  still  the  stronghold  of  church  and  state  ; and  the 
immense  space  in  front  of  it,  covered  with  thousands  of 
shops  and  warehouses,  has  been  for  centuries  a crowded 
beehive  of  commerce,  and  still  remains  the  heart  of  a great 
internal  trade  which  spreads  over  the  whole  surface  of  the 
vast  empire.  The  Tverskaya  and  the  Smiths’  Bridge  have 
been  for  hundreds  of  years  the  chief  centres  for  the  fashion- 
able shops ; while  the  artisans’  quarters,  the  Pluschikha 
and  the  Dorogomilovka,  retain  the  very  same  features  which 
characterized  their  uproarious  populations  in  the  times  of 
the  Moscow  Tsars.  Each  quarter  is  a little  world  in  itself ; 
each  has  its  own  physiognomy,  and  lives  its  own  separate 


2 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


life.  Even  the  railways  — when  they  made  an  irruption 
into  the  old  capital  — grouped  apart  in  special  centres  on 
the  outskirts  of  the  old  town  their  stores  and  machine- 
works,  their  heavily  loaded  carts  and  engines. 

However,  of  all  parts  of  Moscow,  none,  perhaps,  is  more 
typical  than  that  labyrinth  of  clean,  quiet,  winding  streets 
and  lanes  which  lies  at  the  back  of  the  Kreml,  between 
two  great  radial  streets,  the  Arbat  and  the  Prechfstenka, 
and  is  still  called  the  Old  Equerries’  Quarter,  — the 
Staraya  Konyushennaya. 

Some  fifty  years  ago,  there  lived  in  this  quarter,  and 
slowly  died  out,  the  old  Moscow  nobility,  whose  names 
were  so  frequently  mentioned  in  the  pages  of  Russian 
history  before  the  times  of  Peter  I.,  but  who  subsequently 
disappeared  to  make  room  for  the  newcomers,  “ the  men 
of  all  ranks,”  called  into  service  by  the  founder  of  the 
Russian  state.  Feeling  themselves  supplanted  at  the  St. 
Petersburg  court,  these  nobles  of  the  old  stock  retired 
either  to  the  Old  Equerries’  Quarter  in  Moscow,  or  to  their 
picturesque  estates  in  the  country  round  about  the  capital, 
and  they  looked  with  a sort  of  contempt  and  secret  jealousy 
upon  the  motley  crowd  of  families  which  came  “ from  no 
one  knew  where  ” to  take  possession  of  the  highest  func- 
tions of  the  government,  in  the  new  capital  on  the  banks 
of  the  Nev£. 

In  their  younger  days,  most  of  them  had  tried  their  for- 
tunes in  the  service  of  the  state,  chiefly  in  the  army ; but 
for  one  reason  or  another  they  had  soon  abandoned  it, 
without  having  risen  to  high  rank.  The  more  successful 
ones  obtained  some  quiet,  almost  honorary  position  in  their 
mother  city,  — my  father  was  one  of  these,  — while  most 
of  the  others  simply  retired  from  active  service.  But 
wheresoever  they  might  have  been  shifted,  in  the  course  of 
their  careers,  over  the  wide  surface  of  Russia,  they  always 
somehow  managed  to  spend  their  old  age  in  a house  of 


3 


THE  OLD  EQUERRIES*  QUARTER 

their  own  in  the  Old  Equerries’  Quarter,  under  the  shadow 
of  the  church  where  they  had  been  baptized,  and  where 
the  last  prayers  had  been  pronounced  at  the  burial  of  their 
parents. 

New  branches  budded  from  the  old  stocks.  Some  of 
them  achieved  more  or  less  distinction  in  different  parts  of 
Russia ; some  owned  more  luxurious  houses  in  the  new 
style  in  other  quarters  of  Moscow  or  at  St.  Petersburg  ; but 
the  branch  which  continued  to  reside  in  the  Old  Equerries’ 
Quarter,  somewhere  near  to  the  green,  the  yellow,  the  pink, 
or  the  brown  church  which  was  endeared  through  family 
associations,  was  considered  as  the  true  representative  of 
the  family,  irrespective  of  the  position  it  occupied  in  the 
family  tree.  Its  old-fashioned  head  was  treated  with  great 
respect,  not  devoid,  I must  say,  of  a slight  tinge  of  irony, 
even  by  those  younger  representatives  of  the  same  stock 
who  had  left  their  mother  city  for  a more  brilliant  career 
in  the  St.  Petersburg  Guard  or  in  the  court  circles.  He 
personified  for  them  the  antiquity  of  the  family  and  its 
traditions. 

In  these  quiet  streets,  far  away  from  the  noise  and  bustle 
of  the  commercial  Moscow,  all  the  houses  had  much  the 
same  appearance.  They  were  mostly  built  of  wood,  with 
bright  green  sheet-iron  roofs,  the  exteriors  stuccoed  and 
decorated  with  columns  and  porticoes  ; all  were  painted  in 
gay  colors.  Nearly  every  house  had  but  one  story,  with 
seven  or  nine  big,  gay-looking  windows  facing  the  street. 
A second  story  was  admitted  only  in  the  back  part  of  the 
house,  which  looked  upon  a spacious  yard,  surrounded  by 
numbers  of  small  buildings,  used  as  kitchens,  stables,  cel- 
lars, coach-houses,  and  as  dwellings  for  the  retainers  and 
servants.  A wide  gate  opened  upon  this  yard,  and  a brass 
plate  on  it  usually  bore  the  inscription,  “ House  of  So  and 
So,  Lieutenant  or  Colonel,  and  Commander,”  — very  seldom 
“ Major-General  ” or  any  similarly  elevated  civil  rank. 


4 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


But  if  a more  luxurious  house,  embellished  by  a gilded 
iron  railing  and  an  iron  gate,  stood  in  one  of  those  streets, 
the  brass  plate  on  the  gate  was  sure  to  bear  the  name  of 
“ Commerce  Counsel  ” or  “ Honorable  Citizen  ” So  and 
So.  These  were  the  intruders,  those  who  came  unasked  to 
settle  in  this  quarter,  and  were  therefore  ignored  by  their 
neighbors. 

No  shops  were  allowed  in  these  select  streets,  except  that 
in  some  small  wooden  house,  belonging  to  the  parish  church, 
a tiny  grocer’s  or  greengrocer’s  shop  might  have  been  found  ; 
but  then,  the  policeman’s  lodge  stood  on  the  opposite  cor- 
ner, and  in  the  daytime  the  policeman  himself,  armed  with 
a halberd,  would  appear  at  the  door  to  salute  with  his  in- 
offensive weapon  the  officers  passing  by,  and  would  retire 
inside  when  dusk  came,  to  employ  himself  either  as  a cob- 
bler, or  in  the  manufacture  of  some  special  snuff  patronized 
by  the  elder  male  servants  of  the  neighborhood. 

Life  went  on  quietly  and  peacefully  — at  least  for  the 
outsider  — in  this  Moscow  Faubourg  Saint-Germain.  In 
the  morning  nobody  was  seen  in  the  streets.  About  mid- 
day the  children  made  their  appearance  under  the  guidance 
of  French  tutors  and  German  nurses  who  took  them  out  for 
a walk  on  the  snow-covered  boulevards.  Later  on  in  the 
day  the  ladies  might  be  seen  in  their  two-horse  sledges, 
with  a valet  standing  behind  on  a small  plank  fastened  at 
the  end  of  the  runners,  or  ensconced  in  an  old-fashioned 
carriage,  immense  and  high,  suspended  on  big  curved 
springs  and  dragged  by  four  horses,  with  a postilion  in 
front  and  two  valets  standing  behind.  In  the  evening  most 
of  the  houses  were  brightly  illuminated,  and,  the  blinds 
not  being  drawn  down,  the  passers-by  could  admire  the 
card-players  or  the  waltzers  in  the  saloons.  “ Opinions  ” 
were  not  in  vogue  in  those  days,  and  we  were  yet  far  from 
the  years  when  in  each  one  of  these  houses  a struggle  began 
between  “ fathers  and  sons,”  — a struggle  that  usually  ended 


THE  OLD  EQUERRIES’  QUARTER 


5 


either  in  a family  tragedy  or  in  a nocturnal  visit  of  tlie  state 
police.  Fifty  years  ago  nothing  of  the  sort  was  thought 
of ; all  was  quiet  and  smooth,  — at  least  on  the  surface. 

In  this  old  Equerries’  Quarter  I was  born  in  1842,  and 
here  I passed  the  first  fifteen  years  of  my  life.  Even  after 
our  father  had  sold  the  house  in  which  our  mother  died, 
and  bought  another,  and  when  again  he  had  sold  that 
house,  and  we  spent  several  winters  in  hired  houses,  until 
he  had  found  a third  one  to  his  taste,  within  a stone’s- 
throw  of  the  church  where  he  had  been  baptized,  we  still 
remained  in  the  Old  Equerries’  Quarter,  leaving  it  only 
during  the  summer  to  go  to  our  country-seat. 


n 


A high,  spacious  bedroom,  the  comer  room  of  our  house, 
with  a white  bed  upon  which  our  mother  is  lying,  our  haby 
chairs  and  tables  standing  close  by,  and  the  neatly  served 
tables  covered  with  sweets  and  jellies  in  pretty  glass  jars, 
- — a room  into  which  we  children  are  ushered  at  a strange 
hour,  — this  is  the  first  half-distinct  reminiscence  of  my 
life. 

Our  mother  was  dying  of  consumption  ; she  was  only 
thirty-five  years  old.  Before  parting  with  us  forever,  she 
had  wished  to  have  us  by  her  side,  to  caress  us,  to  feel 
happy  for  a moment  in  our  joys,  and  she  had  arranged  this 
little  treat  by  the  side  of  her  bed,  which  she  could  leave 
no  more.  I remember  her  pale  thin  face,  her  large,  dark 
brown  eyes.  She  looked  at  us  with  love,  and  invited  us 
to  eat,  to  climb  upon  her  bed  ; then  all  of  a sudden  she 
burst  into  tears  and  began  to  cough,  and  we  were  told  to  go. 

Some  time  after,  we  children  — that  is,  my  brother 
Alexander  and  myself  — were  removed  from  the  big  house 
to  a small  side  house  in  the  court-yard.  The  April  sun 
filled  the  little  rooms  with  its  rays,  hut  our  German  nurse, 
Madame  Biirman,  and  Uliana  our  Russian  nurse,  told  us 
to  go  to  bed.  Their  faces  wet  with  tears,  they  were  sew- 
ing for  us  black  shirts  fringed  with  broad  white  tassels. 
We  could  not  sleep : the  unknown  frightened  us,  and  we 
listened  to  their  subdued  talk.  They  said  something  about 
our  mother  which  we  could  not  understand.  We  jumped 
out  of  our  beds,  asking,  “ Where  is  mamma  ? Where  is 
mamma  ? ” 

Both  of  them  burst  into  sobs,  and  began  to  pat  our 


DEATH  OF  MY  MOTHER 


7 


curly  heads,  calling  us  “ poor  orphans,”  until  Uli&na  could 
hold  out  no  longer,  and  said,  “Your  mother  is  gone 
there,  — to  the  sky,  to  the  angels.” 

“ How  to  the  sky  ? Why  ? ” our  infantile  imagination 
in  vain  demanded. 

This  was  in  April,  1846.  I was  only  three  and  a half 
years  old,  and  my  brother  Sfisha  not  yet  five.  Where  our 
elder  brother  and  sister,  Nicholas  and  Helhne,  had  gone  I 
do  not  know : perhaps  they  were  already  at  school.  Nicho- 
las was  twelve  years  old,  Helene  was  eleven ; they  kept 
together,  and  we  knew  them  but  little.  So  we  remained, 
Alexander  and  I,  in  this  little  house,  in  the  hands  of 
Madame  Biirman  and  Uliana.  The  good  old  German  lady, 
homeless  and  absolutely  alone  in  the  wide  world,  took 
toward  us  the  place  of  our  mother.  She  brought  us  up  as 
well  as  she  could,  buying  us  from  time  to  time  some  simple 
toys,  and  over-feeding  us  with  ginger  cakes  when  ever  an- 
other old  German,  who  used  to  sell  such  cakes,  — probably 
as  homeless  and  solitary  as  herself,  — paid  an  occasional 
visit  to  our  house.  We  seldom  saw  our  father,  and  the 
next  two  years  passed  without  leaving  any  impression  on 
my  memory. 


m 


Our  father  was  very  proud  of  the  origin  of  his  family, 
and  would  point  with  solemnity  to  a piece  of  parchment 
which  hung  on  a wall  of  his  study.  It  was  decorated  with 
our  arms,  — the  arms  of  the  principality  of  Smolensk 
covered  with  the  ermine  mantle  and  the  crown  of  the 
Monom&chs,  — and  there  was  written  on  it,  and  certified 
by  the  Heraldry  Department,  that  our  family  originated 
with  a grandson  of  Rostislav  Mstislavich  the  Bold  (a  name 
familiar  in  Russian  history  as  that  of  a Grand  Prince  of 
Kfeff),  and  that  our  ancestors  had  been  Grand  Princes  of 
Smolensk. 

“ It  cost  me  three  hundred  rubles  to  obtain  that  parch- 
ment,” our  father  used  to  say.  Like  most  people  of  his 
generation,  he  was  not  much  versed  in  Russian  history, 
and  valued  the  parchment  more  for  its  cost  than  for  its 
historical  associations. 

As  a matter  of  fact,  our  family  is  of  very  ancient  origin 
indeed  ; but,  like  most  descendants  of  Rurik  who  may  be 
regarded  as  representative  of  the  feudal  period  of  Russian 
history,  it  was  driven  into  the  background  when  that 
period  ended,  and  the  Romanoffs,  enthroned  at  Moscow, 
began  the  work  of  consolidating  the  Russian  state.  In 
recent  times,  none  of  the  Kropdtkins  seem  to  have  had  any 
special  liking  for  state  functions.  Our  great-grandfather 
and  grandfather  both  retired  from  the  military  service  when 
quite  young  men,  and  hastened  to  return  to  their  family 
estates.  It  must  also  be  said  that  of  these  estates  the  main 
one,  Urusovo,  situated  in  the  government  of  Ryazan,  on 
a high  hill  at  the  border  of  fertile  prairies,  might  tempt 


THE  KROPOTKIN  FAMILY 


9 


any  one  by  the  beauty  of  its  shadowy  forests,  its  winding 
rivers,  and  its  endless  meadows.  Our  grandfather  was 
only  a lieutenant  when  he  left  the  service,  and  retired  to 
Urusovo,  devoting  himself  to  his  estate,  and  to  the  pur- 
chase of  other  estates  in  the  neighboring  provinces. 

Probably  our  generation  would  have  done  the  same ; but 
our  grandfather  married  a Princess  Gagarin,  who  belonged 
to  a quite  different  family.  Her  brother  was  well  known 
as  a passionate  lover  of  the  stage.  He  kept  a private 
theatre  of  his  own,  and  went  so  far  in  his  passion  as  to 
marry,  to  the  scandal  of  all  his  relations,  a serf,  — the 
genial  actress  Semydnova,  who  was  one  of  the  creators  of 
dramatic  art  in  Russia,  and  undoubtedly  one  of  its  most 
sympathetic  figures.  To  the  horror  of  “ all  Moscow,”  she 
continued  to  appear  on  the  stage. 

I do  not  know  if  our  grandmother  had  the  same  artistic 
and  literary  tastes  as  her  brother,  — I remember  her  when 
she  was  already  paralyzed  and  could  speak  only  in  whis- 
pers ; but  it  is  certain  that  in  the  next  generation  a lean- 
ing toward  literature  became  a characteristic  of  our  family. 
One  of  the  sons  of  the  Princess  Gagarin  was  a minor 
Russian  poet,  and  issued  a book  of  poems,  — a fact  which 
my  father  was  ashamed  of  and  always  avoided  mentioning; 
and  in  our  own  generation  several  of  our  cousins,  as  well  as 
my  brother  and  myself,  have  contributed  more  or  less  to 
the  literature  of  our  period. 

Our  father  was  a typical  officer  of  the  time  of  Nicholas  I. 
Not  that  he  was  imbued  with  a warlike  spirit  or  much  in 
love  with  camp  life  ; I doubt  whether  he  spent  a single 
night  of  his  life  at  a bivouac  fire,  or  took  part  in  one 
battle.  But  under  Nicholas  I.  that  was  of  quite  secondary 
importance.  The  true  military  man  of  those  times  was  the 
officer  who  was  enamored  of  the  military  uniform,  and 
utterly  despised  all  other  sorts  of  attire;  whose  soldiers 
were  trained  to  perform  almost  superhuman  tricks  with 


*0 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


their  legs  and  rifles  (to  break  the  wood  of  the  rifle  into 
pieces  while  “presenting  arms”  was  one  of  those  famous 
tricks)  ; and  who  could  show  on  parade  a row  of  soldiers 
as  perfectly  aligned  and  as  motionless  as  a row  of  toy- 
soldiers.  “ Very  good,”  the  Grand  Duke  Mikhael  said 
once  of  a regiment,  after  having  kept  it  for  one  hour  pre- 
senting arms,  — “ only,  they  breathe  ! ” To  respond  to  the 
then  current  conception  of  a military  man  was  certainly  our 
father’s  ideal. 

True,  he  took  part  in  the  Turkish  campaign  of  1828 ; 
but  he  managed  to  remain  all  the  time  on  the  staff  of  the 
chief  commander ; and  if  we  children,  taking  advantage  of 
a moment  when  he  was  in  a particularly  good  temper, 
asked  him  to  tell  us  something  about  the  war,  he  had 
nothing  to  tell  but  of  a fierce  attack  of  hundreds  of  Turkish 
dogs  which  one  night  assailed  him  and  his  faithful  servant, 
Frol,  as  they  were  riding  with  dispatches  through  an 
abandoned  Turkish  village.  They  had  to  use  swords  to 
extricate  themselves  from  the  hungry  beasts.  Bands  of 
Turks  would  assuredly  have  better  satisfied  our  imagina- 
tion, but  we  accepted  the  dogs  as  a substitute.  "When, 
however,  pressed  by  our  questions,  our  father  told  us  how 
he  had  won  the  cross  of  Saint  Anne  “ for  gallantry,”  and 
the  golden  sword  which  he  wore,  I must  confess  we  felt 
really  disappointed.  His  story  was  decidedly  too  prosaic. 
The  officers  of  the  general  staff  were  lodged  in  a Turkish 
village,  when  it  took  fire.  In  a moment  the  houses  were 
enveloped  in  flames,  and  in  one  of  them  a child  had  been 
left  behind.  Its  mother  uttered  despairing  cries.  There- 
upon, Frol,  who  always  accompanied  his  master,  rushed 
into  the  flames  and  saved  the  child.  The  chief  com- 
mander, who  saw  the  act,  at  once  gave  father  the  cross 
for  gallantry. 

“But,  father,”  we  exclaimed,  “it  was  Frol  who  saved 
the  child  1 ” 


MY  FATHER  1\ 

“ What  of  that  ? ” replied  he,  in  the  most  naive  way. 
u Was  he  not  my  man  ? It  is  all  the  same.” 

He  also  took  some  part  in  the  campaign  of  1831,  during 
the  Polish  Revolution,  and  in  Warsaw  he  made  the  ac- 
quaintance of,  and  fell  in  love  with,  the  youngest  daughter 
of  the  commander  of  an  army  corps,  General  Suli'ma.  The 
marriage  was  celebrated  with  great  pomp,  in  the  Lazienki 
palace;  the  lieutenant-governor,  Count  Paskiewich,  acting 
as  nuptial  godfather  on  the  bridegroom’s  side.  “ But  your 
mother,”  our  father  used  to  add,  “ brought  me  no  fortune 
whatever.” 

This  was  true.  Her  father,  Nikol&i  Semydnovich  Su- 
lfma,  was  not  versed  in  the  art  of  making  a career  or  a for- 
tune. He  must  have  had  in  him  too  much  of  the  blood  of 
those  Cossacks  of  the  Dnyeper,  who  knew  how  to  fight  the 
well-equipped,  warlike  Poles  or  armies  of  the  Turks,  three 
times  more  than  themselves,  but  knew  not  how  to  avoid  the 
snares  of  the  Moscow  diplomacy,  and,  after  having  fought 
against  the  Poles  in  the  terrible  insurrection  of  1648,  which 
was  the  beginning  of  the  end  for  the  Polish  republic,  lost  all 
their  liberties  in  falling  under  the  dominion  of  the  Russian 
Tsars.  One  Suli'ma  was  captured  by  the  Poles  and  tortured 
to  death  at  Warsaw,  but  the  other  “ colonels  ” of  the  same 
stock  only  fought  the  more  fiercely  on  that  account,  and 
Poland  lost  Little  Russia.  As  to  our  grandfather,  during 
Napoleon  I.’s  invasion  he  had  cut  his  way,  at  the  head  of 
his  regiment  of  cuirassiers,  into  a French  infantry  square 
bristling  with  bayonets,  and,  after  having  been  left  for  dead 
on  the  battlefield,  had  recovered  with  a deep  cut  in  his 
head ; but  he  could  not  become  a valet  to  the  favorite  of 
Alexander  I.,  the  omnipotent  Arakcbeeff,  and  was  conse- 
quently sent  into  a sort  of  honorary  exile,  first  as  a gov- 
ernor-general of  West  Siberia,  and  later  of  East  Siberia.  In 
those  times  such  a position  was  considered  more  lucrative 
than  a gold  mine,  but  our  grandfather  returned  from  Siberia 


12 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


as  poor  as  he  went,  and  left  only  modest  fortunes  to  hia 
three  sons  and  three  daughters.  When  I went  to  Siberia,  in 
1862,  I often  heard  his  name  mentioned  with  respect.  He 
was  driven  to  despair  by  the  wholesale  stealing  which  went  on 
in  those  provinces,  and  which  he  had  no  means  to  repress. 

Our  mother  was  undoubtedly  a remarkable  woman  for  the 
times  she  lived  in.  Many  years  after  her  death,  I dis- 
covered, in  a corner  of  a store-room  of  our  country-house,  a 
mass  of  papers  covered  with  her  firm  but  pretty  handwrit- 
ing : diaries  in  which  she  wrote  with  delight  of  the  scenery 
of  Germany,  and  spoke  of  her  sorrows  and  her  thirst  for 
happiness  ; books  which  she  had  filled  with  Russian  verses, 
prohibited  by  censorship,  — among  them  the  beautiful  his- 
torical ballads  of  Ryleeff,  the  poet,  whom  Nicholas  L 
hanged  in  1826 ; other  books  containing  music,  French 
dramas,  verses  of  Lamartine,  and  Byron’s  poems  that  she 
had  copied ; and  a great  number  of  water-color  paintings. 

Tall,  slim,  adorned  with  a mass  of  dark  chestnut  hair, 
with  dark  brown  eyes  and  a tiny  mouth,  she  looks  quite  life- 
like in  a portrait  in  oils  that  was  painted  con  amove  by  a 
good  artist.  Always  lively  and  often  careless,  she  was  fond 
of  dancing,  and  the  peasant  women  in  our  village  would  tell 
us  how  she  would  admire  from  a balcony  their  ring-dances,  — 
slow  and  full  of  grace,  — and  how  finally  she  would  herself 
join  in  them.  She  had  the  nature  of  an  artist.  It  was  at 
a ball  that  she  caught  the  cold  that  produced  the  inflamma- 
tion of  the  lungs  which  brought  her  to  the  grave. 

All  who  knew  her  loved  her.  The  servants  worshiped 
her  memory.  It  was  in  her  name  that  Madame  Biirman 
took  care  of  us,  and  in  her  name  the  Russian  nurse  bestowed 
upon  us  her  love.  While  combing  our  hair,  or  signing  us 
with  the  cross  in  our  beds,  Uliana  would  often  say,  “ And 
your  mamma  must  now  look  upon  you  from  the  skies,  and 
shed  tears  on  seeing  you,  poor  orphans.”  Our  whole  child- 
hood is  irradiated  by  her  memory.  How  often,  in  6ome 


MY  MOTHER 


13 


dark  passage,  the  hand  of  a servant  would  touch  Alexander 
or  me  with  a caress ; or  a peasant  woman,  on  meeting  us  in 
the  fields,  would  ask,  “ Will  you  be  as  good  as  your  mother 
was  ? She  took  compassion  on  us.  You  will,  surely.” 
“ Us  ” meant,  of  course,  the  serfs.  I do  not  know  what 
would  have  become  of  us  if  we  had  not  found  in  our  house, 
among  the  serf  servants,  that  atmosphere  of  love  which 
children  must  have  around  them.  We  were  her  children,^ 
we  bore  likeness  to  her,  and  they  lavished  their  care  upon 
us,  sometimes  in  a touching  form,  as  will  be  seen  later  on. 

Men  passionately  desire  to  live  after  death,  but  they  often 
pass  away  without  noticing  the  fact  that  the  memory  of  a 
really  good  person  always  lives.  It  is  impressed  upon  the 
next  generation,  and  is  transmitted  again  to  the  children. 
Iss  not  that  an  immortality  worth  striving  for  ? 


Two  years  after  the  death  of  our  mother  our  father 
married  again.  He  had  already  cast  his  eyes  upon  a nice- 
looking  young  person,  who  belonged  to  a wealthy  family, 
when  the  fates  decided  another  way.  One  morning,  while 
he  was  still  in  his  dressing-gown,  the  servants  rushed  madly 
into  his  room,  announcing  the  arrival  of  General  Timofeeff, 
the  commander  of  the  sixth  army  corps,  to  which  our  father 
belonged.  This  favorite  of  Nicholas  I.  was  a terrible  man. 
He  would  order  a soldier  to  be  flogged  almost  to  death  for 
a mistake  made  during  a parade,  or  he  would  degrade  an 
officer  and  send  him  as  a private  to  Siberia  because  he  had 
met  him  in  the  street  with  the  hooks  of  his  high,  stiff  collar 
unfastened.  With  Nicholas  General  Timofeeff  s word  was 
all-powerful. 

The  general,  who  had  never  before  been  in  our  house, 
came  to  propose  to  our  father  to  marry  his  wife’s  niece, 
Mademoiselle  Elisabeth  Karandind,  one  of  several  daughters 
of  an  admiral  of  the  Black  Sea  fleet,  — a young  lady  with 
a classical  Greek  profile,  said  to  have  been  very  beautiful. 
Father  accepted,  and  his  second  wedding,  like  the  first,  was 
solemnized  with  great  pomp. 

“ You  young  people  understand  nothing  of  this  kind  of 
thing,”  he  said  in  conclusion,  after  having  told  me  the 
story  more  than  once,  with  a very  fine  humor  which  I will 
not  attempt  to  reproduce.  “ But  do  you  know  what  it 
meant  at  that  time,  — the  commander  of  an  army  corps  ? 
Above  all,  that  one-eyed  devil,  as  we  used  to  call  him,  com- 
ing himself  to  propose  ? Of  course  she  had  no  dowry ; 
only  a big  trunk  filled  with  their  ladies’  finery,  and  that 
Martha,  her  one  serf,  dark  as  a gypsy,  sitting  upon  it.” 


LEARNING  FRENCH 


15 


I have  no  recollection  whatever  of  this  event.  I only 
remember  a big  drawing-room  in  a richly  furnished  house, 
and  in  that  room  a young  lady,  attractive,  but  with  a rather 
too  sharp  southern  look,  gamboling  with  us,  and  saying, 
“You  see  what  a jolly  mamma  you  will  have  ; ” to  which 
Sasha  and  I,  sulkily  looking  at  her,  replied,  “ Our  mamma 
has  flown  away  to  the  sky.”  We  regarded  so  much  liveli- 
ness with  suspicion. 

Winter  came,  and  a new  life  began  for  us.  Our  house 
was  sold,  and  another  was  bought  and  furnished  completely 
anew.  All  that  could  convey  a reminiscence  of  our  mother 
disappeared,  — her  portraits,  her  paintings,  her  embroider- 
ies. In  vain  Madame  Burman  implored  to  be  retained  in 
our  house,  and  promised  to  devote  herself  to  the  baby  our 
stepmother  was  expecting  as  to  her  own  child  : she  was  sent 
away.  “Nothing  of  the  Sulfmas  in  my  house,”  she  was 
told.  All  connection  with  our  uncles  and  aunts  and  our 
grandmother  was  broken.  Uliana  was  married  to  Frol, 
who  became  a major-domo,  while  she  was  made  house- 
keeper ; and  for  our  education  a richly  paid  French  tutor, 
M.  Poulain,  and  a miserably  paid  Russian  student,  N.  P. 
Smirndff,  were  engaged. 

Many  of  the  sons  of  the  Moscow  nobles  were  educated 
at  that  time  by  Frenchmen,  who  represented  the  debris  of 
Napoleon’s  Grande  Armee.  M.  Poulain  was  one  of  them. 
He  had  just  finished  the  education  of  the  youngest  son  of 
the  novelist  Zagdskin,  and  his  pupil,  Serge,  enjoyed  in  the 
Old  Equerries’  Quarter  the  reputation  of  being  so  well 
brought  up  that  our  father  did  not  hesitate  to  engage  M. 
Poulain  for  the  considerable  sum  of  six  hundred  rubles  a 
year. 

M.  Poulain  brought  with  him  his  setter,  Trdsor,  his 
coffee-pot  Napoleon,  and  his  French  textbooks,  and  he 
began  to  rule  over  us  and  the  serf  Matvei  who  was  attached 
to  our  service. 


16 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


His  plan  of  education  was  very  simple.  After  having 
woke  us  up  he  attended  to  his  coffee,  which  he  used  to  take 
in  his  room.  While  we  were  preparing  the  morning  les- 
sons he  made  his  toilet  with  minute  care  : he  shampooed  his 
gray  hair  so  as  to  conceal  his  growing  baldness,  put  on  his 
tail-coat,  sprinkled  and  washed  himself  with  eau-de-cologne, 
and  then  escorted  us  downstairs  to  say  good-morning  to 
our  parents.  We  used  to  find  our  father  and  stepmother 
at  breakfast,  and  on  approaching  them  we  recited  in  the 
most  official  way,  “Bonjour,  mon  cher  papa,”  and  “ Bon- 
jour,  ma  chere  maman,”  and  kissed  their  hands.  ML  Poulain 
made  a very  complicated  and  elegant  obeisance  in  pronouncing 
the  words,  “ Bonjour,  monsieur  le  prince,”  and  “ Bonjour, 
madame  la  princesse,”  after  which  the  procession  immedi- 
ately withdrew  and  retired  upstairs.  This  ceremony  was 
repeated  every  morning. 

Then  our  work  began.  M.  Poulain  changed  his  tail- 
coat for  a dressing-gown,  covered  his  head  with  a leather 
cap,  and  dropping  into  an  easy-chair  said,  “Becite  the 
lesson.” 

We  recited  it  “ by  heart,”  from  one  mark  which  was 
made  in  the  book  with  the  nail  to  the  next  mark.  M. 
Poulain  had  brought  with  him  the  grammar  of  Noel  and 
Chapsal,  memorable  to  more  than  one  generation  of  Rus- 
sian boys  and  girls;  a book  of  French  dialogues;  a history 
of  the  world,  in  one  volume ; and  a universal  geography, 
also  in  one  volume.  We  had  to  commit  to  memory  the 
grammar,  the  dialogues,  the  history,  and  the  geography. 

The  grammar,  with  its  well-known  sentences,  “ What  is 
grammar  ? ” “ The  art  of  speaking  and  writing  correctly,” 

went  all  right.  But  the  history  book,  unfortunately,  had 
a preface,  which  contained  an  enumeration  of  all  the  advan- 
tages which  can  be  derived  from  a knowledge  of  history. 
Things  went  on  smoothly  enough  with  the  first  sentences. 
We  recited : “ The  prince  finds  in  it  magnanimous  exam* 


STUDYING  ROMAN  HISTORY 


17 


pies  for  governing  his  subjects ; the  military  commander 
learns  from  it  the  noble  art  of  warfare.”  But  the  moment 
we  came  to  law  all  went  wrong.  “ The  jurisconsult  meets 
in  it  ” — but  what  the  learned  lawyer  meets  in  history  we 
never  came  to  know.  That  terrible  word  “jurisconsult” 
spoiled  all  the  game.  As  soon  as  we  reached  it  we  stopped. 

“On  your  knees,  gros  pouff  ! ” exclaimed  Poulain. 
(That  was  for  me.)  “ On  your  knees,  grand  dada  ! ” 
(That  was  for  my  brother.)  And  there  we  knelt,  shed- 
ding tears  and  vainly  endeavoring  to  learn  all  about  the 
jurisconsult. 

It  cost  us  many  pains,  that  preface ! We  were  already 
learning  all  about  the  Romans,  and  used  to  put  our  sticks 
in  Uliana’s  scales  when  she  was  weighing  rice,  “just  like 
Brennus ; ” we  jumped  from  our  table  and  other  precipices 
for  the  salvation  of  our  country,  in  imitation  of  Curtius ; 
but  M.  Poulain  would  still  from  time  to  time  return  to  the 
preface,  and  again  put  us  on  our  knees  for  that  very  same 
jurisconsult.  Was  it  strange  that  later  on  both  my  brother 
and  I should  entertain  an  undisguised  contempt  for  juris- 
prudence ? 

I do  not  know  what  would  have  happened  with  geogra- 
phy if  Monsieur  Poulain’s  book  had  had  a preface.  But 
happily  the  first  twenty  pages  of  the  book  had  been  torn 
away  (Serge  Zagdskin,  I suppose,  rendered  us  that  notable 
service),  and  so  our  lessons  commenced  with  the  twenty- 
first  page,  which  began,  “ of  the  rivers  which  water  France.” 

It  must  be  confessed  that  things  did  not  always  end  with 
kneeling.  There  was  in  the  class-room  a birch  rod,  and 
Poulain  resorted  to  it  when  there  was  no  hope  of  progress 
with  the  preface  or  with  some  dialogue  on  virtue  and  pro- 
priety ; but  one  day  sister  Helene,  who  by  this  time  had 
left  the  Catherine  Institut  des  Demoiselles,  and  now  oc- 
cupied a room  underneath  ours,  hearing  our  cries,  rushed, 
all  in  tears,  into  our  father’s  study,  and  bitterly  reproached 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


18 

him  with  having  handed  us  over  to  our  stepmother,  who 
had  abandoned  us  to  “ a retired  French  drummer.”  “ Of 
course,”  she  cried,  “ there  is  no  one  to  take  their  part,  but 
I cannot  see  my  brothers  being  treated  in  this  way  by  a 
drummer  ! ” 

Taken  thus  unprepared,  our  father  could  not  make  a 
stand.  He  began  to  scold  Helene,  but  ended  by  approving 
her  devotion  to  her  brothers.  Thereafter  the  birch  rod  was 
reserved  for  teaching  the  rules  of  propriety  to  the  setter, 
Tresor. 

No  sooner  had  M.  Poulain  discharged  himself  of  his 
heavy  educational  duties  than  he  became  quite  another 
man,  — a lively  comrade  instead  of  a gruesome  teacher. 
After  lunch  he  took  us  out  for  a walk,  and  there  was  no 
end  to  his  tales : we  chattered  like  birds.  Though  we 
never  went  with  him  beyond  the  first  pages  of  syntax,  we 
soon  learned,  nevertheless,  “ to  speak  correctly  ; ” we  used 
to  think  in  French ; and  when  he  had  dictated  to  us  half 
through  a book  of  mythology,  correcting  our  faults  by  the 
book,  without  ever  trying  to  explain  to  us  why  a word 
must  be  written  in  a particular  way,  we  had  learned  “ to 
write  correctly.” 

After  dinner  we  had  our  lesson  with  the  Russian  teacher, 
a student  of  the  faculty  of  law  in  the  Moscow  University. 
He  taught  us  all  “ Russian  ” subjects,  — grammar,  arith- 
metic, history,  and  so  on.  But  in  those  years  serious  teach- 
ing had  not  yet  begun.  In  the  meantime  he  dictated  to 
us  every  day  a page  of  history,  and  in  that  practical  way 
we  quickly  learned  to  write  Russian  quite  correctly. 

Our  best  time  was  on  Sundays,  when  all  the  family, 
with  the  exception  of  us  children,  went  to  dine  with  Ma- 
dame la  Generale  Timofeeff.  It  would  also  happen  occa- 
sionally that  both  M.  Poulain  and  N.  P.  Smirnoff  would 
be  allowed  to  leave  the  house,  and  when  this  occurred  we 
tvere  placed  under  the  care  of  Uliana.  After  a hurriedly 


SUNDAY  PLEASURES 


19 


eaten  dinner  we  hastened  to  the  great  hall,  to  which  the 
younger  housemaids  soon  repaired.  All  sorts  of  games 
were  started,  — blind  man,  vulture  and  chickens,  and  so 
on;  and  then,  all  of  a sudden,  Tikhon,  the  Jack-of-all- 
trades,  would  appear  with  a violin.  Dancing  began  ; not 
that  measured  and  tiresome  dancing,  under  the  direction  of 
a French  dancing-master  “on  india-rubber  legs,”  which 
made  part  of  our  education,  but  free  dancing  which  was 
not  a lesson,  and  in  which  a score  of  couples  turned  round 
any  way ; and  this  was  only  preparatory  to  the  still  more 
animated  and  rather  wild  Cossack  dance.  Tikhon  would 
then  hand  the  violin  to  one  of  the  older  men,  and  would 
begin  to  perform  with  his  legs  such  wonderful  feats  that 
the  doors  leading  to  the  hall  would  soon  be  filled  by  the 
cooks  and  even  the  coachmen,  who  came  to  see  the  dance 
so  dear  to  the  Russian  heart. 

About  nine  o’clock  the  big  carriage  was  sent  to  fetch  the 
family  home.  Tikhon,  brush  in  hand,  crawled  on  the  floor, 
to  make  it  shine  with  its  virgin  glance,  and  perfect  order 
was  restored  in  the  house.  And  if,  next  morning,  we  two 
had  been  submitted  to  the  most  severe  cross-examination, 
not  a word  would  have  been  dropped  concerning  the  previous 
evening’s  amusements.  We  never  would  have  betrayed 
any  one  of  the  servants,  nor  would  they  have  betrayed  us. 
One  Sunday,  my  brother  and  I,  playing  alone  in  the  wide 
hall,  ran  against  a bracket  which  supported  a costly  lamp. 
The  lamp  was  broken  to  pieces.  Immediately  a council 
was  held  by  the  servants.  No  one  scolded  us ; but  it  was 
decided  that  early  next  morning  Tfkhon  should  at  his  risk 
and  peril  slip  out  of  the  house,  and  run  to  the  Smiths’ 
Bridge  in  order  to  buy  another  lamp  of  the  same  pattern. 
It  cost  fifteen  rubles,  — an  enormous  sum  for  the  servants ; 
but  it  was  bought,  and  we  never  heard  a word  of  reproach 
about  it. 

When  I think  of  it  now,  and  all  these  scenes  come  back 


20 


MEMOIR8  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


to  my  memory,  I remember  that  we  never  heard  coarse 
language  in  any  of  the  games,  nor  saw  in  the  dances  any- 
thing like  the  kind  of  dancing  which  children  are  now  taken 
to  admire  in  the  theatres.  In  the  servants’  house,  among 
themselves,  they  assuredly  used  coarse  expressions ; but  we 
were  children,  — her  children,  — and  that  protected  us 
from  anything  of  the  sort. 

In  those  days  children  were  not  bewildered  by  a pro- 
fusion of  toys,  as  they  are  now.  We  had  almost  none, 
and  were  thus  compelled  to  rely  upon  our  own  inventive- 
ness. Besides,  we  both  had  early  acquired  a taste  for  the 
theatre.  The  inferior  carnival  theatres,  with  the  thieving 
and  fighting  shows,  produced  no  lasting  impression  upon 
us : we  ourselves  played  enough  at  robbers  and  soldiers. 
But  the  great  star  of  the  ballet,  Fanny  Elssler,  came  to 
Moscow,  and  we  saw  her.  When  father  took  a box  in  the 
theatre,  he  always  secured  one  of  the  best,  and  paid  for  it 
well ; but  then  he  insisted  that  all  the  members  of  the 
family  should  enjoy  it  to  its  full  value.  Small  though 
I was  at  that  time,  Fanny  Elssler  left  upon  me  the  impres- 
sion of  a being  so  full  of  grace,  so  light,  and  so  artistic  in 
all  her  movements  that  ever  since  I have  been  unable  to 
feel  the  slightest  interest  in  a dance  which  belongs  more  to 
the  domain  of  gymnastics  than  to  the  domain  of  art. 

Of  course,  the  ballet  that  we  saw  — Gitana,  the  Spanish 
Gypsy  — had  to  be  repeated  at  home ; its  substance,  not 
the  dances.  We  had  a ready-made  stage,  as  the  doorway 
which  led  from  our  bedroom  into  the  class-room  had  a 
curtain  instead  of  a door.  A few  chairs  put  in  a half- 
circle in  front  of  the  curtain,  with  an  easy-chair  for  M. 
Poulain,  became  the  hall  and  the  imperial  lodge,  and  an 
audience  could  easily  be  mustered  with  the  Russian  teacher, 
Uliana,  and  a couple  of  maids  from  the  servants’  rooms. 

Two  scenes  of  the  ballet  had  to  be  represented  by  some 


TASTE  FOR  THE  THEATRE 


21 


means  or  other : the  one  where  the  little  Gitana  is  brought 
by  the  gypsies  into  their  camp  in  a wheelbarrow,  and  that 
in  which  Gitana  makes  her  first  appearance  on  the  stage, 
descending  from  a hill  and  crossing  a bridge  over  a brook 
which  reflects  her  image.  The  audience  burst  into  frantic 
applause  at  this  point,  and  the  cheers  were  evidently  called 
forth  — so  we  thought,  at  least  — by  the  reflection  in  the 
brook. 

We  found  our  Gitana  in  one  of  the  youngest  girls  in  the 
maid-servants’  room.  Her  rather  shabby  blue  cotton  dress 
was  no  obstacle  to  personifying  Fanny  Elssler.  An  over- 
turned chair,  pushed  along  by  its  legs,  head  downwards, 
was  an  acceptable  substitute  for  the  wheelbarrow.  But  the 
brook ! Two  chairs  and  the  long  ironing-board  of  Andrei, 
the  tailor,  made  the  bridge,  and  a piece  of  blue  cotton 
made  the  brook.  The  image  in  the  brook,  however,  would 
not  appear  full  size,  do  what  we  might  with  M.  Poulain’s 
little  shaving-glass.  After  many  unsuccessful  endeavors  we 
had  to  give  it  up,  but  we  bribed  Uliana  to  behave  as  if  she 
saw  the  image,  and  to  applaud  loudly  at  this  passage,  so 
that  finally  we  began  to  believe  that  perhaps  something  of 
it  could  be  seen. 

Racine’s  “ Phedre,”  or  at  least  the  last  act  of  it,  also 
went  off  nicely ; that  is,  Sasha  recited  the  melodious  versea 
beautifully,  — 

“A  peine  nous  sortions  des  portes  de  Trdzfene;” 

and  I sat  absolutely  motionless  and  unconcerned  during  the 
whole  length  of  the  tragic  monologue  intended  to  apprise 
me  of  the  death  of  my  son,  down  to  the  place  where,  ac- 
cording to  the  book,  I had  to  exclaim,  “ 0,  dieux  1 ” 

But  whatsoever  we  might  impersonate,  all  our  perform- 
ances invariably  ended  with  hell.  All  candles  save  one 
were  put  out,  and  this  one  was  placed  behind  a transparent 
paper  to  imitate  flames,  while  my  brother  and  I,  concealed 


22 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


from  view,  howled  in  the  most  appalling  way  as  the  con- 
demned. Uli&na,  who  did  not  like  to  have  any  allusion 
to  the  Evil  One  made  at  bedtime,  looked  horrified ; but  I 
ask  myself  now  whether  this  extremely  concrete  represen- 
tation of  hell,  with  a candle  and  a sheet  of  paper,  did  not 
contribute  to  free  us  both  at  an  early  age  from  the  fear  of 
eternal  fire.  Our  conception  of  it  was  too  realistic  to  resist 
skepticism. 

I must  have  been  very  much  of  a child  when  I saw  the 
great  Moscow  actors  : Schepkin,  Saddvskiy,  and  Shumski, 
in  Gogol’s  “ Revisdr  ” and  another  comedy ; still,  I remem- 
ber not  only  the  salient  scenes  of  the  two  plays,  but  even 
the  forms  and  expressions  of  these  great  actors  of  the 
realistic  school  which  is  now  so  admirably  represented  by 
Duse.  I remembered  them  so  well  that  when  I saw  the 
same  plays  given  at  St.  Petersburg,  by  actors  belonging  to 
the  French  declamatory  school,  I found  no  pleasure  in 
their  acting,  always  comparing  them  with  Schepkin  and 
Saddvskiy,  by  whom  my  taste  in  dramatic  art  was  settled. 

This  makes  me  think  that  parents  who  wish  to  develop 
artistic  taste  in  their  children  ought  to  take  them  occasion- 
ally to  really  well-acted,  good  plays,  instead  of  feeding 
them  on  a profusion  of  so-called  “children’s  pantomimes.” 


V 


When  I was  in  my  eighth  year,  the  next  step  in  mj 
career  was  taken,  in  a quite  unforeseen  way.  I do  not 
know  exactly  on  what  occasion  it  happened,  but  probably 
it  was  on  the  twenty-fifth  anniversary  of  Nicholas  I.’s  ac- 
cession, when  great  festivities  were  arranged  for  at  Moscow. 
The  imperial  family  were  coming  to  the  old  capital,  and 
the  Moscow  nobility  intended  to  celebrate  this  event  by  a 
fancy-dress  ball,  in  which  children  were  to  play  an  im- 
portant part.  It  was  agreed  that  the  whole  motley  crowd 
of  nationalities  of  which  the  population  of  the  Russian 
Empire  is  composed  should  be  represented  at  this  ball  to 
greet  the  monarch.  Great  preparations  went  on  in  our 
house,  as  well  as  in  all  the  houses  of  our  neighborhood. 
Some  sort  of  remarkable  Russian  costume  was  made  for 
our  stepmother.  Our  father,  being  a military  man,  had 
to  appear,  of  course,  in  his  uniform  ; but  those  of  our 
relatives  who  were  not  in  the  military  service  were  as 
busy  with  their  Russian,  Greek,  Caucasian,  and  Mongolian 
costumes  as  the  ladies  themselves.  When  the  Moscow 
nobility  gives  a ball  to  the  imperial  family,  it  must  be 
something  extraordinary.  As  for  my  brother  Alexander 
and  myself,  we  were  considered  too  young  to  take  part  in 
so  important  a ceremonial. 

And  yet,  after  all,  I did  take  part  in  it.  Our  mother 
was  an  intimate  friend  of  Madame  Nazfmoff,  the  wife  of  the 
general  who  was  governor  of  Wilno  when  the  emancipation 
of  the  serfs  began  to  be  spoken  of.  Madame  Nazimoff,  who 
was  a very  beautiful  woman,  was  expected  to  be  present  at 
the  ball  with  her  child,  about  ten  years  old,  and  to  wear 


24 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


Borne  'wonderfully  beautiful  costume  of  a Persian  princess, 
in  harmony  with  which  the  costume  of  a young  Persian 
prince,  exceedingly  rich,  with  a belt  covered  with  jewels, 
was  made  ready  for  her  son.  But  the  boy  fell  ill  just  be- 
fore the  ball,  and  Madame  Nazimoff  thought  that  one  of 
the  children  of  her  best  friend  would  be  the  best  substitute 
for  her  own  child.  Alexander  and  I were  taken  to  her 
house  to  try  on  the  costume.  It  proved  to  be  too  short 
for  Alexander,  who  was  much  taller  than  I,  but  it  fitted 
me  exactly,  and  therefore  it  was  decided  that  I should  im- 
personate the  Persian  prince. 

The  immense  hall  of  the  house  of  the  Moscow  nobility 
was  crowded  with  guests.  Each  of  the  children  received  a 
standard  bearing  at  its  top  the  arms  of  one  of  the  sixty  pro- 
vinces of  the  Russian  Empire.  I had  an  eagle  floating  over 
a blue  sea,  which  represented,  as  I learned  later  on,  the 
arms  of  the  government  of  Astrakhan,  on  the  Caspian  Sea. 
We  were  then  ranged  at  the  back  of  the  great  hall,  and 
slowly  marched  in  two  rows  toward  the  raised  platform 
upon  which  the  Emperor  and  his  family  stood.  As  we 
reached  it  we  marched  right  and  left,  and  thus  stood  aligned 
in  one  row  before  the  platform.  At  a given  signal  all 
standards  were  lowered  before  the  Emperor.  The  apothe- 
osis of  autocracy  was  made  most  impressive : Nicholas  was 
enchanted.  All  provinces  of  the  empire  worshiped  the 
supreme  ruler.  Then  we  children  slowly  retired  to  the  rear 
of  the  hall. 

But  here  some  confusion  occurred.  Chamberlains  in 
their  gold-embroidered  uniforms  were  running  about,  and 
I was  taken  out  of  the  ranks ; my  uncle,  Prince  Gagdrin, 
dressed  as  a Tungus  (I  was  dizzy  with  admiration  of  his 
fine  leather  coat,  his  bow,  and  his  quiver  full  of  arrows), 
lifted  me  up  in  his  arms,  and  planted  me  on  the  imperial 
platform. 

Whether  it  was  because  I was  the  tiniest  in  the  row  of 


IN  FAVOR  WITH  NICHOLAS  I 


25 


boys,  or  that  my  round  face,  framed  in  curls,  looked  funny 
under  the  high  Astrakhan  fur  bonnet  I wore,  I know  not, 
but  Nicholas  wanted  to  have  me  on  the  platform ; and 
there  I stood  amidst  generals  and  ladies  looking  down  upon 
me  with  curiosity.  I was  told  later  on  that  Nicholas  I., 
who  was  always  fond  of  barrack  jokes,  took  me  by  the  arm, 
and,  leading  me  to  Marie  Alexandrovna  (the  wife  of  the 
heir  to  the  throne),  who  was  then  expecting  her  third  child, 
said  in  his  military  way,  “ That  is  the  sort  of  boy  you  must 
bring  me,”  — a joke  which  made  her  blush  deeply.  I well 
remember,  at  any  rate,  Nicholas  asking  me  whether  I would 
have  sweets ; but  I replied  that  I should  like  to  have  some 
of  those  tiny  biscuits  which  were  served  with  tea  (we  were 
never  over-fed  at  home),  and  he  called  a waiter  and  emptied 
a full  tray  into  my  tall  bonnet.  “I  will  take  them  to 
S&sha,”  I said  to  him. 

However,  the  soldier-like  brother  of  Nicholas,  Mikhael, 
who  had  the  reputation  of  being  a wit,  managed  to  make 
me  cry.  “ When  you  are  a good  boy,”  he  said,  “ they  treat 
you  so,”  and  he  passed  his  big  hand  over  my  face  down- 
wards ; “ but  when  you  are  naughty,  they  treat  you  so,” 
and  he  passed  the  hand  upwards,  rubbing  my  nose,  which 
already  had  a marked  tendency  toward  growing  in  that  direc- 
tion. Tears,  which  I vainly  tried  to  stop,  came  into  my 
eyes.  The  ladies  at  once  took  my  part,  and  the  good- 
hearted  Marie  Alexandrovna  took  me  under  her  protection. 
She  set  me  by  her  side,  in  a high  velvet  chair  with  a gilded 
back,  and  our  people  told  me  afterward  that  I very  soon  put 
my  head  in  her  lap  and  went  to  sleep.  She  did  not  leave 
her  chair  during  the  whole  time  the  ball  was  going  on. 

I remember  also  that,  as  we  were  waiting  in  the  entrance- 
hall  for  our  carriage,  our  relatives  petted  and  kissed  me, 
saying,  “ Petya,  you  have  been  made  a page ; ” but  I an- 
swered, “ I am  not  a page.  I will  go  home,”  and  was  very 
anxious  about  my  bonnet  whieh  contained  the  pretty  little 
biscuits  that  I was  taking  home  for  Sdsha. 


26 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


I do  not  know  whether  S&sha  got  many  of  those  biscuits, 
but  I recollect  what  a hug  he  gave  me  when  he  was  told 
about  my  anxiety  concerning  the  bonnet. 

To  be  inscribed  as  a candidate  for  the  corps  of  pages  was 
then  a great  favor,  which  Nicholas  seldom  bestowed  on  the 
Moscow  nobility.  My  father  was  delighted,  and  already 
dreamed  of  a brilliant  court  career  for  his  son.  My  step- 
mother, every  time  she  told  the  story,  never  failed  to  add, 
“ It  is  all  because  I gave  him  my  blessing  before  he  went  to 
the  ball.” 

Madame  Nazi'moff  was  delighted,  too,  and  insisted  upon 
having  her  portrait  painted  in  the  costume  in  which  she 
looked  so  beautiful,  with  me  standing  at  her  side. 

My  brother  Alexander’s  fate,  also,  was  decided  next  year. 
The  jubilee  of  the  Izm&ylovsk  regiment,  to  which  my  father 
had  belonged  in  his  youth,  was  celebrated  about  this  time 
at  St.  Petersburg.  One  night,  while  all  the  household  was 
plunged  in  deep  sleep,  a three-horse  carriage,  ringing  with 
the  bells  attached  to  the  harnesses,  stopped  at  our  gate.  A 
man  jumped  out  of  it,  loudly  shouting,  “ Open ! An  ordi- 
nance from  his  Majesty  the  Emperor.” 

One  can  easily  imagine  the  terror  which  this  nocturnal 
visit  spread  in  our  house.  My  father,  trembling,  went 
down  to  his  study.  “ Court-martial,  degradation  as  a sol- 
dier,” were  words  which  rang  then  in  the  ears  of  every 
military  man  ; it  was  a terrible  epoch.  But  Nicholas  simply 
wanted  to  have  the  names  of  the  sons  of  all  the  officers  who 
had  once  belonged  to  the  regiment,  in  order  to  send  the  boys 
to  military  schools,  if  that  had  not  yet  been  done.  A special 
messenger  had  been  dispatched  for  that  purpose  from  St. 
Petersburg  to  Moscow,  and  was  now  calling  day  and  night 
at  the  houses  of  the  ex-Izm&ylovsk  officers. 

With  a shaking  hand  my  father  wrote  that  his  eldest  son, 
Nicholas,  was  already  in  the  first  corps  of  cadets  at  Moscow ; 


DESTINED  FOR  A MILITARY  CAREER 


2? 


that  his  youngest  son,  Peter,  was  a candidate  for  the  corps 
of  pages ; and  that  there  remained  only  his  second  son, 
Alexander,  who  had  not  yet  entered  the  military  career.  A 
few  weeks  later  came  a paper  informing  father  of  the  “ mon- 
arch’s favor.”  Alexander  was  ordered  to  enter  a corps  of 
cadets  in  Orel,  a small  provincial  town.  It  cost  my  father 
a deal  of  trouble  and  a large  sum  of  money  to  get  Alexan- 
der sent  to  a corps  of  cadets  at  Moscow.  Phis  new  “ favor  ” 
was  obtained  only  in  consideration  of  the  fact  that  our  elder 
brother  was  in  that  corps. 

And  thus,  owing  to  the  will  of  Nicholas  I.,  we  had  both 
to  receive  a military  education,  though,  before  we  were  many 
years  older,  we  simply  hated  the  military  career  for  its 
absurdity.  But  Nicholas  was  watchful  that  none  of  the  sons 
of  the  nobility  should  embrace  any  other  profession  than 
the  military  one,  unless  they  were  of  infirm  health ; and  so 
we  had  all  three  to  be  officers,  to  the  great  satisfaction  of 
my  father. 


VI 


Wealth  was  measured  in  those  times  by  the  number 
of  “ souls  ” that  a landed  proprietor  owned.  So  many 
“ souls  ” meant  so  many  male  serfs  : women  did  not  count. 
My  father,  who  owned  nearly  twelve  hundred  souls,  in  three 
different  provinces,  and  who  had,  in  addition  to  his  peasants’ 
holdings,  large  tracts  of  land  which  were  cultivated  by  these 
peasants,  was  accounted  a rich  man.  He  lived  up  to  his 
reputation,  which  meant  that  his  house  was  open  to  any 
number  of  visitors,  and  that  he  kept  a very  large  household. 

We  were  a family  of  eight,  occasionally  of  ten  or  twelve ; 
but  fifty  servants  at  Moscow,  and  half  as  many  more  in  the 
country,  were  considered  not  one  too  many.  Four  coachmen 
to  attend  a dozen  horses,  three  cooks  for  the  masters  and 
two  more  for  the  servants,  a dozen  men  to  wait  upon  us  at 
dinner-time  (one  man,  plate  in  hand,  standing  behind  each 
person  seated  at  the  table),  and  girls  innumerable  in  the 
maid-servants’  room,  — how  could  any  one  do  with  less 
than  this  ? 

Besides,  the  ambition  of  every  landed  proprietor  was  that 
everything  required  for  his  household  should  be  made  at 
home,  by  his  own  men. 

“ How  nicely  your  piano  is  always  tuned  ! I suppose 
Herr  Schimmel  must  be  your  tuner  ? ” perhaps  a visitor 
would  remark. 

To  be  able  to  answer,  “ I have  my  own  piano-timer,” 
was  in  those  times  the  correct  thing. 

u What  beautiful  pastry  ! ” the  guests  would  exclaim, 
when  a work  of  art,  composed  of  ices  and  pastry,  appeared 
toward  the  end  of  the  dinner.  “ Confess,  prince,  that  it 
eomes  from  Tremble  ” (the  fashionable  pastry-cook). 


THE  AMBITIONS  OF  A LANDED  PROPRIETOR  29 

tl  It  is  made  by  my  own  confectioner,  a pupil  of  Trembld, 
whom  I have  allowed  to  show  what  he  can  do,”  was  a reply 
which  elicited  general  admiration. 

To  have  embroideries,  harnesses,  furniture,  — in  fact, 
everything,  — made  by  one’s  own  men  was  the  ideal  of  the 
rich  and  respected  landed  proprietor.  As  soon  as  the  chil- 
dren of  the  servants  attained  the  age  of  ten,  they  were  sent 
as  apprentices  to  the  fashionable  shops,  where  they  were 
obliged  to  spend  five  or  seven  years  chiefly  in  sweeping,  in 
receiving  an  incredible  number  of  thrashings,  and  in  run- 
ning about  town  on  errands  of  all  sorts.  I must  own  that 
few  of  them  became  masters  of  their  respective  arts.  The 
tailors  and  the  shoemakers  were  found  only  skillful  enough 
to  make  clothes  or  shoes  for  the  servants,  and  when  a really 
good  pastry  was  required  for  a dinner-party  it  was  ordered 
at  Tremble’s,  while  our  own  confectioner  was  beating  the 
drum  in  the  band. 

That  band  was  another  of  my  father’s  ambitions,  and 
almost  every  one  of  his  male  servants,  in  addition  to 
other  accomplishments,  was  a bass-viol  or  a clarinet  in  the 
band.  Makar,  the  piano-tuner,  alias  under-butler,  was  also 
a flutist ; Andrei,  the  tailor,  played  the  French  horn  ; the 
confectioner  was  first  put  to  beat  the  drum,  but  he  misused 
his  instrument  to  such  a deafening  degree  that  a tremen- 
dous trumpet  was  bought  for  him,  in  the  hope  that  his  lungs 
would  not  have  the  power  to  make  the  same  noise  as  his 
hands ; when,  however,  this  last  hope  had  to  be  abandoned, 
he  was  sent  to  be  a soldier.  As  to  “ spotted  Tikhon,”  in 
addition  to  his  numerous  functions  in  the  household  as 
lamp-cleaner,  floor-polisher,  and  footman,  he  rendered  him- 
self useful  in  the  band,  — to-day  as  a trombone,  to-morrow 
as  a bassoon,  and  occasionally  as  second  violin. 

The  two  first  violins  were  the  only  exceptions  to  the  rule  : 
they  were  “ violins,”  and  nothing  else.  My  father  had 
bought  them,  with  their  large  families,  for  a handsome 


80 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


sum  of  money,  from  his  sisters  (he  never  bought  serfs  from 
nor  sold  them  to  strangers).  In  the  evenings  when  he  was 
not  at  his  club,  or  when  there  was  a dinner  or  an  evening 
party  at  our  house,  the  band  of  twelve  to  fifteen  musicians 
was  summoned.  They  played  very  nicely,  and  were  in 
great  demand  for  dancing-parties  in  the  neighborhood ; still 
more  when  we  were  in  the  country.  This  was,  of  course,  a 
constant  source  of  gratification  to  my  father,  whose  permis- 
sion had  to  be  asked  to  get  the  assistance  of  his  hand. 

Nothing,  indeed,  gave  him  more  pleasure  than  to  be 
asked  for  help,  either  in  the  way  mentioned  or  in  any 
other  : for  instance,  to  obtain  free  education  for  a boy,  or  to 
save  somebody  from  a punishment  inflicted  upon  him  by  a 
law  court.  Although  he  was  liable  to  fall  into  fits  of  rage, 
he  was  undoubtedly  possessed  of  a natural  instinct  toward 
leniency,  and  when  his  patronage  was  requested  he  would 
write  scores  of  letters  in  all  possible  directions,  to  all 
sorts  of  persons  of  high  standing,  in  favor  of  his  protegd. 
At  such  times,  his  mail,  which  was  always  heavy,  would  be 
swollen  by  half  a dozen  special  letters,  written  in  a most  origi- 
nal, semi-official,  and  semi-humorous  style ; each  of  them 
sealed,  of  course,  with  his  arms,  in  a big  square  envelope, 
which  rattled  like  a baby-rattle  on  account  of  the  quantity 
of  sand  it  contained,  — the  use  of  blotting-paper  being  then 
unknown.  The  more  difficult  the  case,  the  more  energy  ha 
would  display,  until  he  secured  the  favor  he  asked  for  his 
protege,  whom  in  many  cases  he  never  saw. 

My  father  liked  to  have  plenty  of  guests  in  his  house. 
Our  dinner-hour  was  four,  and  at  seven  the  family  gathered 
round  the  samovar  (tea-urn)  for  tea.  Every  one  belonging 
to  our  circle  could  drop  in  at  that  hour,  and  from  the  time 
my  sister  Helene  was  again  with  us  there  was  no  lack  of 
visitors,  old  and  young,  who  took  advantage  of  the  privi* 
lege.  When  the  windows  facing  the  street  showed  bright 
light  inside,  that  was  enough  to  let  people  know  that  the 
family  was  at  home  and  friends  would  be  welcome. 


SOCIAL  AND  FAMILY  LIFE  81 

Nearly  every  night  we  had  visitors.  The  green  tables 
were  opened  in  the  hall  for  the  card-players,  while  the 
ladies  and  the  young  people  stayed  in  the  reception-room  or 
around  Helbne’s  piano.  When  the  ladies  had  gone,  card- 
playing continued  sometimes  till  the  small  hours  of  the 
morning,  and  considerable  sums  of  money  changed  hands 
among  the  players.  Father  invariably  lost.  But  the  real 
clanger  for  him  was  not  at  home : it  was  at  the  English 
Club,  where  the  stakes  were  much  higher  than  in  private 
houses,  and  especially  when  he  was  induced  to  join  a party 
of  “ very  respectable  ” gentlemen,  in  one  of  the  “ most 
respectable  ” houses  of  the  Old  Equerries’  Quarter,  where 
gambling  went  on  all  night.  On  an  occasion  of  this  kind 
his  losses  were  sure  to  be  heavy. 

Dancing-parties  were  not  infrequent,  to  say  nothing  of 
a couple  of  obligatory  balls  every  winter.  Father’s  way, 
in  such  cases,  was  to  have  everything  done  in  a good  style, 
whatever  the  expense.  But  at  the  same  time  such  niggard- 
liness was  practiced  in  our  house  in  daily  life  that  if  I 
were  to  recount  it,  I should  be  accused  of  exaggeration.  It 
is  said  of  a family  of  pretenders  to  the  throne  of  France, 
renowned  for  their  truly  regal  hunting-parties,  that  in  their 
every-day  life  even  the  tallow  candles  are  minutely  counted. 
The  same  sort  of  miserly  economy  ruled  in  our  house  with 
regard  to  everything ; so  much  so  that  when  we,  the  chil- 
dren of  the  house,  grew  up,  we  detested  all  saving  and 
counting.  However,  in  the  Old  Equerries’  Quarter  such 
a mode  of  life  only  raised  my  father  in  public  esteem. 
“The  old  prince,”  it  was  said,  “seems  to  be  sharp  over 
money  at  home ; but  he  knows  how  a nobleman  ought  to 
live.” 

In  our  quiet  and  clean  lanes  that  was  the  kind  of  life 
which  was  most  in  respect.  One  of  our  neighbors,  General 
D — — , kept  his  house  up  in  very  grand  style ; and  yet 
the  most  comical  scenes  took  place  every  morning  between 


82 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


him  and  his  cook.  Breakfast  over,  the  old  general,  smok« 
ing  his  pipe,  would  himself  order  the  dinner. 

11  Well,  my  hoy,”  he  would  say  to  the  cook,  who  appeared 
in  snow-white  attire,  “ to-day  we  shall  not  be  many  ; only 
a couple  of  guests.  You  will  make  us  a soup,  you  know, 
with  some  spring  delicacies,  — green  peas,  French  beans, 
and  so  on.  You  have  not  given  us  any  as  yet,  and  madam, 
you  know,  likes  a good  French  spring  soup.” 

“ Yes,  sir.” 

“ Then,  anything  you  like  as  an  entrde.” 

c<  Yes,  sir.” 

“ Of  course,  asparagus  is  not  yet  in  season,  but  I saw 
yesterday  such  nice  bundles  of  it  in  the  shops.” 

“ Yes,  sir  ; eight  shillings  the  bundle.” 

“ Quite  right ! Then,  we  are  sick  of  your  roasted 
chickens  and  turkeys ; you  ought  to  get  something  for  a 
change.” 

“ Some  venison,  sir  ? ” 

u Yes,  yes  ; anything  for  a change.’ 

And  when  the  six  courses  of  the  dinner  had  been  decided 
on,  the  old  general  would  ask,  “ Now,  how  much  shall  I 
give  you  for  to-day’s  expenses  ? Six  shillings  will  do,  I 
suppose  ? ” 

“ One  pound,  sir.” 

" What  nonsense,  my  boy  ! Here  are  six  shillings ; I 
assure  you  that ’s  quite  enough.” 

“ Eight  shillings  for  asparagus,  five  for  the  vegetables.” 

“ Now,  look  here,  my  dear  boy,  be  reasonable.  I ’ll  go 
as  high  as  seven-and-six,  and  you  must  be  economical.” 

And  the  bargaining  would  go  on  thus  for  half  an  hour, 
until  the  two  would  agree  upon  fourteen  shillings  and  six- 
pence, with  the  understanding  that  the  morrow’s  dinner 
should  not  cost  more  than  three  shillings.  Whereupon  the 
general,  quite  happy  at  having  made  such  a good  bargain, 
would  take  his  sledge,  make  a round  of  the  fashionable 


ECONOMY  AND  EXTRAVAGANCE 


S3 


shops,  and  return  quite  radiant,  bringing  for  his  wife  a 
bottle  of  exquisite  perfume,  for  which  he  had  paid  a fancy 
price  in  a French  shop,  and  announcing  to  his  only  daugh- 
ter that  a new  velvet  mantle  — “ something  very  simple  ” 
and  very  costly  — would  be  sent  for  her  to  try  on  that 
afternoon. 

All  our  relatives,  who  were  numerous  on  my  father’s  side, 
lived  exactly  in  the  same  way ; and  if  a new  spirit  occa- 
sionally made  its  appearance,  it  usually  took  the  form  of 
some  religious  passion.  Thus,  a Prince  Gagarin  joined 
the  Jesuit  order,  again  to  the  scandal  of  “ all  Moscow ; ” 
another  young  prince  entered  a monastery,  while  several 
older  ladies  became  fanatic  devotees. 

There  was  a single  exception.  One  of  our  nearest  rela- 
tives, Prince  — let  me  call  him  Mirski,  had  spent  his  youth 
at  St.  Petersburg  as  an  officer  of  the  guard.  He  took  no 
interest  in  keeping  his  own  tailors  and  cabinet-makers,  for 
his  house  was  furnished  in  a grand  modern  style,  and  his 
wearing  apparel  was  all  made  in  the  best  St.  Petersburg 
shops.  Gambling  was  not  his  propensity,  — he  played  cards 
only  when  in  company  with  ladies  ; but  his  weak  point  was 
his  dinner-table,  upon  which  he  spent  incredible  sums  of 
money. 

Lent  and  Easter  were  his  chief  epochs  of  extravagance. 
When  the  Great  Lent  came,  and  it  would  not  have  been 
proper  to  eat  meat,  cream,  or  butter,  he  seized  the  oppor- 
tunity to  invent  all  sorts  of  delicacies  in  the  way  of  fish. 
The  best  shops  of  the  two  capitals  were  ransacked  for  that 
purpose ; special  emissaries  were  dispatched  from  his  estate 
to  the  mouth  of  the  Vdlga,  to  bring  back  on  post-horses 
(there  was  no  railway  at  that  time)  a sturgeon  of  great  size 
or  some  extraordinarily  cured  fish.  And  when  Easter  came, 
there  was  no  end  to  his  inventions. 

Easter,  in  Russia,  is  the  most  venerated  and  also  the 
gayest  of  the  yearly  festivals.  It  is  the  festival  of  spring. 


24 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


The  immense  heaps  of  snow  which  have  been  lying  during 
the  winter  along  the  streets  rapidly  thaw,  and  roaring  streams 
run  down  the  streets ; not  like  a thief  who  creeps  in  by 
insensible  degrees,  but  frankly  and  openly  spring  comes,  — 
every  day  bringing  with  it  a change  in  the  state  of  the  snow 
and  the  progress  of  the  buds  on  the  trees ; the  night  frosts 
only  keep  the  thaw  within  reasonable  bounds.  The  last 
week  of  the  Great  Lent,  Passion  Week,  was  kept  in  Moscow, 
in  my  childhood,  with  extreme  solemnity ; it  was  a time  of 
general  mourning,  and  crowds  of  people  went  to  the  churches 
to  listen  to  the  impressive  reading  of  those  passages  of  the 
Gospels  which  relate  the  sufferings  of  the  Christ.  Not  only 
were  meat,  eggs,  and  butter  not  eaten,  but  even  fish  was 
refused  ; some  of  the  most  rigorous  taking  no  food  at  all  on 
Good  Friday.  The  more  striking  was  the  contrast  when 
Easter  came. 

On  Saturday  every  one  attended  the  night  service,  which 
began  in  a mournful  way.  Then,  suddenly,  at  midnight, 
the  resurrection  news  was  announced.  All  the  churches 
were  at  once  illuminated,  and  gay  peals  of  bells  resounded 
from  hundreds  of  bell-towers.  General  rejoicing  began. 
All  the  people  kissed  one  another  thrice  on  the  cheeks, 
repeating  the  resurrection  words,  and  the  churches,  now 
flooded  with  light,  shone  with  the  gay  toilettes  of  the  ladies. 
The  poorest  woman  had  a new  dress  ; if  she  had  only  one 
new  dress  a year,  she  would  get  it  for  that  night. 

At  the  same  time,  Easter  was,  and  is  still,  the  signal  for 
a real  debauch  in  eating.  Special  Easter  cream  cheeses 
( pasJcha ) and  Easter  bread  ( kooltch ) are  prepared  ; and 
every  one,  no  matter  how  poor  he  or  she  may  be,  must  have 
be  it  only  a small  paskha  and  a small  koolich,  with  at  least 
one  egg  painted  red,  to  be  consecrated  in  the  church,  and  to 
be  used  afterward  to  break  the  Lent.  With  most  old  Rus- 
sians, eating  began  at  night,  after  a short  Easter  mass, 
immediately  after  the  consecrated  food  had  been  brought 


LENT  AND  EASTER 


35 


from  church  ; but  in  the  houses  of  the  nobility  the  ceremony 
was  postponed  till  Sunday  morning,  when  a table  was  cov- 
ered with  all  sorts  of  viands,  cheeses  and  pastry,  and  all  the 
servants  came  to  exchange  with  their  masters  three  kisses 
and  a red-painted  egg.  Throughout  Easter  week  a table 
spread  with  Easter  food  stood  in  the  great  hall,  and  every 
visitor  was  invited  to  partake. 

On  this  occasion  Prince  Mirski  surpassed  lumself. 
Whether  he  was  at  St.  Petersburg  or  at  Moscow,  messengers 
brought  to  his  house,  from  his  estate,  a specially  prepared 
cream  cheese  for  the  paskha,  and  his  cook  managed  to  make 
out  of  it  a piece  of  artistic  confectionery.  Other  messen- 
gers were  dispatched  to  the  province  of  Novgorod  to  get  a 
bear’s  ham,  which  was  cured  for  the  prince’s  Easter  table. 
And  while  the  princess,  with  her  two  daughters,  visited  the 
most  austere  monasteries,  in  which  the  night  service  would 
last  three  or  four  hours  in  succession,  and  spent  all  Passion 
Week  in  the  most  mournful  condition  of  mind,  eating  only 
a piece  of  dry  bread  between  the  visits  she  paid  to  Russian, 
Roman,  and  Protestant  preachers,  her  husband  made  every 
morning  the  tour  of  the  well-known  Milutin  shops  at  St. 
Petersburg,  where  all  possible  delicacies  are  brought  from 
the  ends  of  the  earth.  There  he  used  to  select  the  most 
extravagant  dainties  for  his  Easter  table.  Hundreds  of 
visitors  came  to  his  house,  and  were  asked  “just  to  taste” 
this  or  that  extraordinary  thing. 

The  end  of  it  was  that  the  prince  managed  literally  to  eat 
up  a considerable  fortune.  His  richly  furnished  house  and 
beautiful  estate  were  sold,  and  when  he  and  his  wife  were 
old  they  had  nothing  left,  not  even  a home,  and  were  com- 
pelled to  live  with  their  children. 

No  wonder  that  when  the  emancipation  of  the  serfs  came, 
nearly  all  these  families  of  the  Old  Equerries’  Quarter  were 
ruined.  But  I must  not  anticipate  events. 


vn 


To  maintain  such  numbers  of  servants  as  were  kept  in 
our  house  would  have  been  simply  ruinous,  if  all  provisions 
had  to  he  bought  at  Moscow  ; but  in  those  times  of  serfdom 
things  were  managed  very  simply.  When  winter  came, 
father  sat  at  his  table  and  wrote  the  following  : — 

“ To  the  manager  of  my  estate,  Nikdlskoye,  situated  in 
the  government  of  Kaluga,  district  of  Meschdvsk,  on  the 
river  Sirena,  from  the  Prince  Alexei  Petrdvich  Kropdtkin, 
Colonel  and  Commander  of  various  orders. 

“ On  receipt  of  this,  and  as  soon  as  winter  communica- 
tion is  established,  thou  art  ordered  to  send  to  my  house, 
situated  in  the  city  of  Moscow,  twenty-five  peasant-sledges, 
drawn  by  two  horses  each,  one  horse  from  each  house,  and 
one  sledge  and  one  man  from  each  second  house,  and  to 
load  them  with  [so  many]  quarters  of  oats,  [so  many]  of 
wheat,  and  [so  many]  of  rye,  as  also  with  all  the  poultry 
and  geese  and  ducks,  well  frozen,  ■which  have  to  be  killed 
this  winter,  well  packed  and  accompanied  by  a complete 
list,  under  the  supervision  of  a well-chosen  man  ; ” and  so 
it  went  on  for  a couple  of  pages,  till  the  next  full  stop  was 
reached.  After  this  there  followed  an  enumeration  of  the 
penalties  which  would  be  inflicted  in  case  the  provisions 
should  not  reach  the  house  situated  in  such  a street,  num- 
ber so  and  so,  in  due  time  and  in  good  condition. 

Some  time  before  Christmas  the  twenty-five  peasant- 
sledges  really  entered  our  gates,  and  covered  the  surface  of 
the  wide  yard. 

“ Frol  ! ” shouted  my  father,  as  soon  as  the  report  of 
this  great  event  reached  him.  “ Kiryushka  ! Yegdrka  ! 


LAYING  IN  SUPPLIES  FOR  WINTER 


37 


Where  are  they  ? Everything  will  be  stolen  ! Frol,  go 
and  receive  the  oats ! Uli&na,  go  and  receive  the  poultry  ! 
Kiryushka,  call  the  princess ! ” 

All  the  household  was  in  commotion,  the  servants  run- 
ning wildly  in  every  direction,  from  the  hall  to  the  yard, 
and  from  the  yard  to  the  hall,  but  chiefly  to  the  maid-ser- 
vants’ room,  to  communicate  there  the  Nikdlskoye  news : 
“ Pasha  is  going  to  marry  after  Christmas.  Aunt  Anna  has 
surrendered  her  soul  to  God,”  and  so  on.  Letters  had  also 
come  from  the  country,  and  very  soon  one  of  the  maids 
would  steal  upstairs  into  my  room. 

“ Are  you  alone  ? The  teacher  is  not  in  ? ” 

“ No,  he  is  at  the  university.” 

“ Well,  then,  be  kind  and  read  me  this  letter  from 
mother.” 

And  I would  read  to  her  the  naive  letter,  which  always 
began  with  the  words,  “ Father  and  mother  send  you  their 
blessings  for  ages  not  to  be  broken.”  After  this  came  the 
news  : “ Aunt  Eupraxie  lies  ill,  all  her  bones  aching ; and 
your  cousin  is  not  yet  married,  but  hopes  to  be  after 
Easter ; and  Aunt  Stepanida’s  cow  died  on  All  Saints’  day.” 
Following  the  news  came  the  greetings,  two  pages  of  them : 
“ Brother  Paul  sends  you  his  greetings,  and  the  sisters 
Mary  and  Daria  send  their  greetings,  and  then  Uncle 
Dmitri  sends  his  many  greetings,”  and  so  on.  However, 
notwithstanding  the  monotony  of  the  enumeration,  each 
name  awakened  some  remarks : “ Then  she  is  still  alive, 
poor  soul,  if  she  sends  her  greetings ; it  is  nine  years  since 
she  has  lain  motionless.”  Or,  “ Oh,  he  has  not  forgotten 
me  ; he  must  be  back,  then,  for  Christmas ; such  a nice 
boy.  You  will  write  me  a letter,  won’t  you  ? and  I must 
not  forget  him  then.”  I promised,  of  course,  and  when 
the  time  came  I wrote  a letter  in  exactly  the  same  style. 

When  the  sledges  had  been  unloaded,  the  hall  filled  with 
peasants.  They  had  put  on  their  best  coats  over  their 


88 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


fcheepskins,  and  waited  until  father  should  call  them  into 
his  room  to  have  a talk  about  the  snow  and  the  prospects 
of  the  next  crops.  They  hardly  dared  to  walk  in  their 
heavy  boots  on  the  polished  floor.  A few  ventured  to  sit 
down  on  the  edge  of  an  oak  bench ; they  emphatically 
refused  to  make  use  of  chairs.  So  they  waited  for  hours, 
looking  with  alarm  upon  every  one  who  entered  father’s 
room  or  issued  from  it. 

Some  time  later  on,  usually  next  morning,  one  of  the 
servants  would  run  slyly  upstairs  to  the  class-room. 

“ Are  you  alone  ? ” 

“Yes.” 

“ Then  go  quickly  to  the  hall.  The  peasants  want  to 
see  you;  something  from  your  nurse.” 

When  I went  down  to  the  hall,  one  of  the  peasants 
would  give  me  a little  bundle  containing  perhaps  a few 
rye  cakes,  half  a dozen  hard-boiled  eggs,  and  some  apples, 
tied  in  a motley  colored  cotton  kerchief.  “ Take  that : it 
is  your  nurse,  Vasilisa,  who  sends  it  to  you.  Look  if  the 
apples  are  not  frozen.  I hope  not : I kept  them  all  the 
journey  on  my  breast.  Such  a fearful  frost  we  had.”  And 
the  broad,  bearded  face,  covered  with  frost-bites,  would  smile 
radiantly,  showing  two  rows  of  beautiful  white  teeth  from 
beneath  quite  a forest  of  hair. 

“ And  this  is  for  your  brother,  from  his  nurse  Anna,” 
another  peasant  would  say,  handing  me  a similar  bundle. 
“ ‘ Poor  boy,’  she  says,  ‘ he  can  never  have  enough  at 
school.’  ” 

Blushing  and  not  knowing  what  to  say,  I would  mur- 
mur at  last,  “ Tell  Vasilisa  that  I kiss  her,  and  Anna  too, 
for  my  brother.”  At  which  all  faces  would  become  still 
more  radiant. 

“ Yes,  I will,  to  be  sure.” 

Then  Kirila,  who  kept  watch  at  father’s  door,  would 
whisper  suddenly,  “ Run  quickly  upstairs ; your  father  may 


STARTING  FOR  THE  COUNTRY  HOUSE  39 

come  out  in  a moment.  Don’t  forget  the  kerchief ; they 
want  to  take  it  back.” 

As  I carefully  folded  the  worn  kerchief,  I most  pas- 
sionately desired  to  send  Vasilisa  something.  But  I had 
nothing  to  send,  not  even  a toy,  and  we  never  had  pocket- 
money. 

Our  best  time,  of  course,  was  in  the  country.  As  soon 
as  Easter  and  Whitsuntide  had  passed,  all  our  thoughts 
were  directed  toward  Nikdlskoye.  However,  time  went 
on,  — the  lilacs  must  be  past  blooming  at  Nikdlskoye,  — 
and  father  had  still  thousands  of  affairs  to  keep  him  in 
town.  At  last,  five  or  six  peasant-carts  entered  our  yard  : 
they  came  to  take  all  sorts  of  things  which  had  to  be  sent 
to  the  country-house.  The  great  old  coach  and  the  other 
coaches  in  which  we  were  going  to  make  the  journey  were 
taken  out  and  inspected  once  more.  The  boxes  began  to 
be  packed.  Our  lessons  made  slow  progress ; at  every  mo- 
ment we  interrupted  our  teachers,  asking  whether  this  or 
that  book  should  be  taken  with  us,  and  long  before  all 
others  we  began  packing  our  books,  our  slates,  and  the  toys 
that  we  ourselves  had  made. 

Everything  was  ready : the  peasant-carts  stood  heavily 
loaded  with  furniture  for  the  country-house,  boxes  contain- 
ing the  kitchen  utensils,  and  almost  countless  empty  glass 
jars  which  were  to  be  brought  back  in  the  autumn  filled 
with  all  kinds  of  preserves.  The  peasants  waited  every 
morning  for  hours  in  the  hall  ; but  the  order  for  leaving 
did  not  come.  Father  continued  to  write  all  the  morning  in 
his  room,  and  disappeared  at  night.  Finally,  our  stepmother 
interfered,  her  maid  having  ventured  to  report  that  the  peas- 
ants were  very  anxious  to  return,  as  haymaking  was  near. 

Next  afternoon,  Frol,  the  major-domo,  and  Mikhael 
Aleeff,  the  first  violin,  were  called  into  father’s  room. 
A sack  containing  the  “ food  money  ” — that  is,  a few  cop- 


40 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


pers  a day  — for  each  of  the  forty  or  fifty  souls  who  were 
to  accompany  the  household  to  Nikdlskoye,  was  handed  to 
Frol,  with  a list.  All  were  enumerated  in  that  list : the 
band  in  full ; then  the  cooks  and  the  under-cooks,  the  laun- 
dresses, the  under-laundress  who  was  blessed  with  a family 
of  six  mites,  “ Polka  Squinting,”  “ Domna  the  Big  One,” 
“ Domna  the  Small  One,”  and  the  rest  of  them. 

The  first  violin  received  an  “ order  of  march.”  I knew 
it  well,  because  father,  seeing  that  he  never  would  be 
ready,  had  called  me  to  copy  it  into  the  book  in  which  he 
used  to  copy  all  “ outgoing  papers : ” — 

“ To  my  house  servant,  Mikhael  Aleeff,  from  Prince 
Alexdi  Petrdvich  Kropdtkin,  Colonel  and  Commander. 

“ Thou  art  ordered,  on  May  29th,  at  six  a.  m.,  to  march 
out  with  my  loads,  from  the  city  of  Moscow,  for  my 
estate,  situated  in  the  government  of  Kaluga,  district  of 
Meschdvsk,  on  the  river  Sirena,  representing  a distance  of 
one  hundred  and  sixty  miles  from  this  house  ; to  look  after 
the  good  conduct  of  the  men  entrusted  to  thee,  and  if  any 
one  of  them  proves  to  be  guilty  of  misconduct  or  of  drunk- 
enness or  of  insubordination,  to  bring  the  said  man  before 
the  commander  of  the  garrison  detachment  of  the  separate 
corps  of  the  interior  garrisons,  with  the  inclosed  circular 
letter,  and  to  ask  that  he  may  be  punished  by  flogging 
[the  first  violin  knew  who  was  meant],  as  an  example  to 
the  others. 

“Thou  art  ordered,  moreover,  to  look  especially  after 
the  integrity  of  the  goods  entrusted  to  thy  care,  and  to 
march  according  to  the  following  order  : First  day,  stop  at 
village  So  and  So,  to  feed  the  horses  ; second  day,  spend 
the  night  at  the  town  of  Poddlsk ; ” and  so  on  for  all  the 
seven  or  eight  days  that  the  journey  would  last. 

Next  day,  at  ten  instead  of  at  six,  — punctuality  is  not 
a Russian  virtue  (“  Thank  God,  we  are  not  Germans,”  true 
Russians  used  to  say),  — the  carts  left  the  house.  The 


A SUMMER  MIGRATION 


41 


servants  had  to  make  the  journey  on  foot;  only  the  chil- 
dren were  accommodated  with  a seat  in  a bath-tub  or 
basket,  on  the  top  of  a loaded  cart,  and  some  of  the  women 
might  find  an  occasional  resting-place  on  the  rim  of  a cart. 
The  others  had  to  walk  all  the  hundred  and  sixty  miles. 
As  long  as  they  were  marching  through  Moscow,  discipline 
was  maintained  : it  was  peremptorily  forbidden  to  wear 
top-boots,  or  to  pass  a belt  over  the  coat.  But  when  they 
were  on  the  road,  and  we  overtook  them  a couple  of  days 
later,  and  especially  when  it  was  known  that  father  would 
stay  a few  days  longer  at  Moscow,  the  men  and  the  women 
— dressed  in  all  sorts  of  impossible  coats,  belted  with  cot- 
ton handkerchiefs,  burned  by  the  sun  or  dripping  under  the 
rain,  and  helping  themselves  along  with  sticks  cut  in  the 
woods  — certainly  looked  more  like  a wandering  band  of 
gypsies  than  the  household  of  a wealthy  landowner.  Simi- 
lar peregrinations  were  made  by  every  household  in  those 
times,  and  when  we  saw  a file  of  servants  marching  along 
one  of  our  streets,  we  at  once  knew  that  the  Apukhtins  or 
the  Pryanishnikoffs  were  migrating. 

The  carts  were  gone,  yet  the  family  did  not  move.  All 
of  us  were  sick  of  waiting ; but  father  still  continued  to 
write  interminable  orders  to  the  managers  of  his  estates, 
and  I copied  them  diligently  into  the  big  “ outgoing  book.” 
At  last  the  order  to  start  was  given.  We  were  called 
downstairs.  My  father  read  aloud  the  order  of  march, 
addressed  to  “ the  Princess  Kropdtkin,  wife  of  Prince 
Alexei  Petrdvich  Kropdtkin,  Colonel  and  Commander,” 
in  which  the  halting-places  during  the  five  days’  journey 
were  duly  enumerated.  True,  the  order  was  written  for 
May  30,  and  the  departure  was  fixed  for  nine  A.  m., though 
May  was  gone,  and  the  departure  took  place  in  the  after- 
noon : this  upset  all  calculations.  But,  as  is  usual  in  mili- 
tary marching-orders,  this  circumstance  had  been  foreseen, 
and  was  provided  for  in  the  following  paragraph : — 


42 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


te  If,  however,  contrary  to  expectation,  the  departure  of 
your  highness  does  not  take  place  at  the  said  day  and  hour, 
you  are  requested  to  act  according  to  the  best  of  your  under- 
standing, in  order  to  bring  the  said  journey  to  its  best 
issue.” 

Then,  all  present,  the  family  and  the  servants,  sat  down 
for  a moment,  signed  themselves  with  the  cross,  and  bade 
my  father  good-by.  “ I entreat  you,  Alexis,  don’t  go  to 
the  club,”  our  stepmother  whispered  to  him.  The  great 
coach,  drawn  by  four  horses,  with  a postilion,  stood  at  the 
door,  with  its  little  folding  ladder  to  facilitate  climbing  in ; 
the  other  coaches  also  were  there.  Our  seats  were  enumer- 
ated in  the  marching-orders,  but  our  stepmother  had  to  exer- 
cise “ the  best  of  her  understanding  ” even  at  that  early 
stage  of  the  proceedings,  and  we  started  to  the  gTeat  satis- 
faction of  all. 

The  journey  was  an  inexhaustible  source  of  enjoyment 
for  us  children.  The  stages  were  short,  and  we  stopped 
twice  a day  to  feed  the  horses.  As  the  ladies  screamed  at 
the  slightest  declivity  of  the  road,  it  was  found  more  con- 
venient to  alight  each  time  the  road  went  up  or  down  hill, 
which  it  did  continually,  and  we  took  advantage  of  this  to 
have  a peep  into  the  woods  by  the  roadside,  or  a run  along 
some  crystal  brook.  The  beautifully  kept  highroad  from 
Moscow  to  Warsaw,  which  we  followed  for  some  distance, 
was  covered,  moreover,  with  a variety  of  interesting  objects  : 
files  of  loaded  carts,  groups  of  pilgrims,  and  all  sorts  of 
people.  Twice  a day  we  stopped  in  big,  animated  villages, 
and  after  a good  deal  of  bargaining  about  the  prices  to  be 
charged  for  hay  and  oats,  as  well  as  for  the  samovdrs,  we 
dismounted  at  the  gates  of  an  inn.  Cook  Andrei  bought  a 
chicken  and  made  the  soup,  while  we  ran  in  the  meantime 
to  the  next  wood,  or  examined  the  yard  of  the  great  inn. 

At  Maloyaroslavetz,  where  a battle  was  fought  in  1812, 
when  the  Russian  army  vainly  attempted  to  stop  Napoleon 


ON  THE  OLD  KALUGA  ROUTE 


43 


in  his  retreat  from  Moscow,  we  usually  spent  the  night. 
M.  Poulain,  who  had  been  wounded  in  the  Spanish  cam- 
paign, knew,  or  pretended  to  know,  everything  about  the 
battle  at  Maloyaroslavetz.  He  took  us  to  the  battlefield, 
and  explained  how  the  Russians  tried  to  check  Napoleon’s 
advance,  and  how  the  Grande  Armee  crushed  them  and 
made  its  way  through  the  Russian  lines.  He  explained 
it  as  well  as  if  he  himself  had  taken  part  in  the  battle. 
Here  the  Cossacks  attempted  un  mouvement  tournant,  but 
Davoust,  or  some  other  marshal,  routed  them  and  pursued 
them  just  beyond  these  hills  on  the  right.  There  the  left 
wing  of  Napoleon  crushed  the  Russian  infantry,  and  here 
Napoleon  himself,  at  the  head  of  the  Old  Guard,  charged 
Kutuzoff’s  centre,  and  covered  himself  and  his  Guard  with 
undying  glory. 

We  once  took  the  old  Kaluga  route,  and  stopped  at  Taru- 
tino  ; but  here  Poulain  was  much  less  eloquent.  For  it 
was  at  this  place  that  Napoleon,  who  intended  to  retreat  by 
a southern  route,  was  compelled,  after  a bloody  battle,  to 
abandon  that  plan,  and  was  forced  to  follow  the  Smolensk 
route,  which  his  army  had  laid  waste  during  its  march  on 
Moscow.  But  still  — so  it  appeared  in  Poulain’s  narrative 
— Napoleon  was  deceived  by  his  marshals ; otherwise  he 
would  have  marched  straight  upon  Kieff  and  Odessa,  and 
his  eagles  would  have  floated  over  the  Black  Sea. 

Beyond  Kaluga  we  had  to  cross  for  a stretch  of  five 
miles  a beautiful  pine  forest,  which  remains  connected  in 
my  memory  with  some  of  the  happiest  reminiscences  of  my 
childhood.  The  sand  in  that  forest  was  as  deep  as  in  an 
African  desert,  and  we  went  all  the  way  on  foot,  while  the 
horses,  stopping  every  moment,  slowly  dragged  the  carriages 
in  the  sand.  When  I was  in  my  teens,  it  was  my  delight 
to  leave  the  family  behind,  and  to  walk  the  whole  distance 
by  myself.  Immense  red  pines,  centuries  old,  rose  on  every 
side,  and  not  a sound  reached  the  ear  except  the  voices 


44 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


of  the  lofty  trees.  In  a small  ravine  a fresh  crystal  spring 
murmured,  and  a passer-by  had  left  in  it,  for  the  use  of 
those  who  should  come  after  him,  a small  funnel-shaped 
ladle,  made  of  birch  bark,  with  a split  stick  for  a handle. 
Noiselessly  a squirrel  ran  up  a tree,  and  the  underwood 
was  as  full  of  mysteries  as  were  the  trees.  In  that  forest 
my  first  love  of  nature  and  my  first  dim  perception  of  its 
incessant  life  were  horn. 

Beyond  the  forest,  and  past  the  ferry  which  took  us  over 
the  Ugra,  we  left  the  highroad  and  entered  narrow  country 
lanes,  where  green  ears  of  rye  bent  toward  the  coach,  and 
the  horses  managed  to  bite  mouthfuls  of  grass  on  either 
side  of  the  way,  as  they  ran,  closely  pressed  to  one  another 
in  the  narrow,  trenchlike  road.  At  last  we  caught  sight  of 
the  willows  which  marked  the  approach  to  our  village,  and 
all  of  a sudden  we  saw  the  elegant  pale  yellow  bell  tower 
of  the  Nikolskoye  church. 

For  the  quiet  life  of  the  landlords  of  those  times  Nik<51- 
skoye  was  admirably  suited.  There  was  nothing  in  it  of 
the  luxury  which  is  seen  in  richer  estates ; but  an  artistic 
hand  was  visible  in  the  planning  of  the  buildings  and  gar- 
dens, and  in  the  general  arrangement  of  things.  Besides 
the  main  house,  which  father  had  recently  built,  there  were, 
round  a spacious  and  well-kept  yard,  several  smaller  houses, 
which,  while  they  gave  a greater  degree  of  independence 
to  their  inhabitants,  did  not  destroy  the  close  intercourse 
of  the  family  life.  An  immense  “ upper  garden  ” was 
devoted  to  fruit  trees,  and  through  it  the  church  was 
reached  ; the  southern  slope  of  the  land,  which  led  to  the 
river,  was  entirely  given  up  to  a pleasure  garden,  where 
flower-beds  were  intermingled  with  alleys  of  lime-trees, 
lilacs,  and  acacias.  From  the  balcony  of  the  main  house 
there  was  a beautiful  view  of  the  river,  with  the  ruins  of 
an  old  earthen  fortress  where  the  Russians  offered  a stub* 


LIFE  AT  NIKOLSKOYE 


45 


born  resistance  during  the  Mongol  invasion,  and  further  on 
a great  area  of  yellow  grain-fields  bordered  on  the  horizon 
by  woods. 

In  the  early  years  of  my  childhood  we  occupied  with 
M.  Poulain  one  of  the  separate  houses  entirely  by  ourselves  ; 
and  after  his  method  of  education  was  softened  by  the 
intervention  of  our  sister  Helene,  we  were  on  the  best  pos- 
sible terms  with  him.  Father  was  invariably  absent  from' 
home  in  the  summer,  which  he  spent  in  military  inspec- 
tions, and  our  stepmother  did  not  pay  much  attention  to 
us,  especially  after  her  own  child,  Pauline,  was  born.  We 
were  thus  always  with  M.  Poulain,  who  thoroughly  enjoyed 
the  stay  in  the  country,  and  let  us  enjoy  it.  The  woods ; 
the  walks  along  the  river  ; the  climbing  over  the  hills  to 
the  old  fortress,  which  Poulain  made  alive  for  us  as  he 
told  how  it  was  defended  by  the  Russians,  and  how  it  was 
captured  by  the  Tartars ; the  little  adventures,  in  one  of 
which  Poulain  became  our  hero  by  saving  Alexander  from 
drowning  ; an  occasional  encounter  with  wolves,  — there 
was  no  end  of  new  and  delightful  impressions. 

Large  parties  were  organized,  also,  in  which  all  the 
family  took  part,  sometimes  picking  mushrooms  in  the 
woods,  and  afterward  having  tea  in  the  midst  of  the  forest, 
where  a man  a hundred  years  old  lived  alone  with  his  little 
grandson,  taking  care  of  bees.  At  other  times  we  went  to 
one  of  father’s  villages  where  a big  pond  had  been  dug,  in 
which  golden  carp  were  caught  by  the  thousand,  — part  of 
them  being  taken  for  the  landlord  and  the  remainder  being 
distributed  among  all  the  peasants.  My  former  nurse  lived 
in  that  village.  Her  family  was  one  of  the  poorest ; besides 
her  husband,  she  had  only  a small  boy  to  help  her,  and 
a girl,  my  foster-sister,  who  became  later  on  a preacher 
and  a “ virgin  ” in  the  Nonconformist  sect  to  which  they 
belonged.  There  was  no  bound  to  her  joy  when  I came 
to  see  her.  Cream,  eggs,  apples,  and  honey  were  all  that 


46 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


she  could  offer;  but  the  way  in  which  she  offered  them,  in 
bright  wooden  plates,  after  having  covered  the  table  with 
a fine  snow-white  linen  tablecloth  of  her  own  make  (with 
the  Russian  Nonconformists  absolute  cleanliness  is  a matter 
of  religion),  and  the  fond  words  with  which  she  addressed 
me,  treating  me  as  her  own  son,  left  the  warmest  feelings 
in  my  heart.  I must  say  the  same  of  the  nurses  of  my 
elder  brothers,  Nicholas  and  Alexander,  who  belonged  to 
prominent  families  of  two  other  Nonconformist  sects  in 
Nikdlskoye.  Few  know  what  treasuries  of  goodness  can  be 
found  in  the  hearts  of  Russian  peasants,  even  after  centu- 
ries of  the  most  cruel  oppression,  which  might  well  have 
embittered  them. 

On  stormy  days  M.  Poulain  had  an  abundance  of  tales  to 
tell  us,  especially  about  the  campaign  in  Spain.  Over  and 
over  again  we  induced  him  to  tell  us  how  he  was  wounded 
in  a battle,  and  every  time  he  came  to  the  point  when  he 
felt  warm  blood  streaming  into  his  boot,  we  jumped  to  kiss 
him  and  gave  him  all  sorts  of  pet  names. 

Everything  seemed  to  prepare  us  for  the  military  career: 
the  predilection  of  our  father  (the  only  toys  that  I remem- 
ber his  having  bought  for  us  were  a rifle  and  a real  sentry- 
box)  ; the  war  tales  of  M.  Poulain ; nay,  even  the  library 
which  we  had  at  our  disposal.  This  library,  which  had 
once  belonged  to  General  Repninsky,  our  mother’s  grand- 
father, a learned  military  man  of  the  eighteenth  century, 
consisted  exclusively  of  books  on  military  warfare,  adorned 
with  rich  plates  and  beautifully  bound  in  leather.  It  was 
our  chief  recreation,  on  wet  days,  to  look  over  the  plates 
of  these  books,  representing  the  weapons  of  warfare  since 
the  times  of  the  Hebrews,  and  giving  plans  of  all  the  bat- 
tles that  had  been  fought  since  Alexander  of  Macedonia. 
These  heavy  books  also  offered  excellent  material  for  build- 
ing out  of  them  strong  fortresses  which  would  stand  for 
6ome  time  the  blows  of  a battering-ram,  and  the  projectiles 


REPUBLICAN  TENDENCIES 


47 


of  an  Archimedean  catapult  (which,  however,  persisted  in 
sending  stones  into  the  windows,  and  was  soon  prohibited). 
Yet  neither  Alexander  nor  I became  a military  man.  The 
literature  of  the  sixties  wiped  out  the  teachings  of  our 
childhood. 

M.  Poulain’s  opinions  about  revolutions  were  those  of  the 
Orleanist  “ Illustration  Franchise,”  of  which  he  received 
hack  numbers,  and  of  which  we  knew  all  the  woodcuts. 
For  a long  time  I could  not  imagine  a revolution  otherwise 
than  in  the  shape  of  Death  riding  on  a horse,  the  red  flag 
in  one  hand  and  a scythe  in  the  other,  mowing  down  men 
right  and  left.  So  it  was  pictured  in  the  “ Illustration.” 
But  I now  think  that  M.  Poulain’s  dislike  was  limited  to 
the  uprising  of  1848,  for  one  of  his  tales  about  the  Revolu- 
tion of  1789  deeply  impressed  my  mind. 

The  title  of  prince  was  used  in  our  house  with  and  with- 
out occasion.  M.  Poulain  must  have  been  shocked  by  it, 
for  he  began  once  to  tell  us  what  he  knew  of  the  great 
Revolution.  I cannot  now  recall  what  he  said,  but  one 
thing  I remember,  namely,  that  Count  Mirabeau  and  other 
nobles  one  day  renounced  their  titles,  and  that  Count  Mira- 
beau, to  show  his  contempt  for  aristocratic  pretensions, 
opened  a shop  decorated  with  a signboard  which  bore  the 
inscription,  “ Mirabeau,  tailor.”  (I  tell  the  story  as  I had 
it  from  M.  Poulain.)  For  a long  time  after  that  I worried 
myself  thinking  what  trade  I should  take  up  so  as  to  write, 
* 4 Kropdtkin,  such  and  such  a handicraft  man.”  Later  on, 
my  Russian  teacher,  Nikolai  Pavlovich  Smirndff,  and  the 
general  republican  tone  of  Russian  literature  influenced  me 
in  the  same  way ; and  when  I began  to  write  novels  — that 
is,  in  my  twelfth  year  — I adopted  the  signature  P.  Kro- 
potkin, which  I never  have  departed  from,  notwithstanding 
the  remonstrances  of  my  chiefs  when  I was  in  the  military 
service. 


vm 


In  the  autumn  of  1852  my  brother  Alexander  was  sent 
to  the  corps  of  cadets,  and  from  that  time  we  saw  each 
other  only  during  the  holidays  and  occasionally  on  Sundays. 
The  corps  of  cadets  was  five  miles  from  our  house,  and 
although  we  had  a dozen  horses,  it  always  happened  that 
when  the  time  came  to  send  a sledge  to  the  corps  there 
was  no  horse,  free  for  that  purpose.  My  eldest  brother, 
Nicholas,  came  home  very  seldom.  The  relative  freedom 
which  Alexander  found  at  school,  and  especially  the  influ- 
ence of  two  of  his  teachers  in  literature,  developed  his 
intellect  rapidly,  and  later  on  I shall  have  ample  occasion 
to  speak  of  the  beneficial  influence  that  he  exercised  upon 
my  own  development.  It  is  a great  privilege  to  have  had 
a loving,  intelligent  elder  brother. 

In  the  meantime  I remained  at  home.  I had  to  wait  till 
my  turn  to  enter  the  corps  of  pages  should  come,  and  that 
did  not  happen  until  I was  nearly  fifteen  years  of  age. 
M.  Poulain  was  dismissed,  and  a German  tutor  was  engaged 
instead.  He  was  one  of  those  idealistic  men  who  are  not 
uncommon  among  Germans,  but  I remember  him  chiefly  on 
account  of  the  enthusiastic  way  in  which  he  used  to  recite 
Schiller’s  poetry,  accompanying  it  by  a most  naive  kind  of 
acting  that  delighted  me.  He  stayed  with  us  only  one 
winter. 

The  next  winter  I was  sent  to  attend  the  classes  at  a 
Moscow  gymnasium  ; and  finally  I remained  with  our  Rus- 
sian teacher,  Smirndff.  We  soon  became  friends,  especially 
after  my  father  took  both  of  us  for  a journey  to  his  Ryazan 
estate.  During  this  journey  we  indulged  in  all  sorts  of  fun, 


SERFDOM 


49 


and  we  used  to  invent  humorous  stories  in  connection  with 
the  men  and  the  things  that  we  saw ; while  the  impres- 
sion produced  upon  me  by  the  hilly  tracts  we  crossed  added 
some  new  and  fine  touches  to  my  growing  love  of  nature. 
Under  the  impulse  given  me  by  Smirndff,  my  literary  tastes 
also  began  to  grow,  and  during  the  years  from  1854  to 
1857  I had  full  opportunity  to  develop  them.  My  teacher, 
who  had  by  this  time  finished  his  studies  at  the  university,  * 
obtained  a small  clerkship  in  a law  court,  and  spent  his 
mornings  there.  I was  thus  left  to  myself  till  dinner-time, 
and  after  having  prepared  my  lessons  and  taken  a walk,  I 
had  plenty  of  time  to  read,  and  especially  to  write.  In  the 
autumn,  when  my  teacher  returned  to  his  office  at  Moscow, 
while  we  remained  in  the  country,  I was  left  again  to  myself, 
and  though  in  continual  intercourse  with  the  family,  and 
spending  a good  deal  of  time  in  playing  with  my  little  sister 
Pauline,  I could  in  fact  dispose  of  my  time  as  I liked  for 
reading  and  writing. 

Serfdom  was  then  in  the  last  years  of  its  existence.  It 
is  recent  history,  — it  seems  to  be  only  of  yesterday ; and 
yet,  even  in  Russia,  few  realize  what  serfdom  was  in  reality. 
There  is  a dim  conception  that  the  conditions  which  it 
created  were  very  bad  ; but  those  conditions,  as  they  affected 
human  beings  bodily  and  mentally,  are  not  generally  under- 
stood. It  is  amazing,  indeed,  to  see  how  quickly  an  insti- 
tution and  its  social  consequences  are  forgotten  when  the 
institution  has  ceased  to  exist,  and  with  what  rapidity  men 
and  things  change.  I will  try  to  recall  the  conditions  of 
serfdom  by  telling,  not  what  I heard,  but  what  I saw. 

Uliana,  the  housekeeper,  stands  in  the  passage  leading 
to  father’s  room,  and  crosses  herself ; she  dares  neither  to 
advance  nor  to  retreat.  At  last,  after  having  recited  a 
prayer,  she  enters  the  room,  and  reports,  in  a hardly  audible 
voice,  that  the  store  of  tea  is  nearly  at  an  end,  that  there 


50 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


ire  only  twenty  pounds  of  sugar  left,  and  that  the  other 
provisions  will  soon  be  exhausted. 

“ Thieves,  robbers  ! ” shouts  my  father.  “ And  you,  you 
are  in  league  with  them ! ” His  voice  thunders  through- 
out the  house.  Our  stepmother  leaves  Uliana  to  face  the 
storm.  But  father  cries,  “Frol,  call  the  princess  1 Where 
is  she  ? ” And  when  she  enters,  he  receives  hex  with  the 
same  reproaches. 

“ You  also  are  in  league  with  this  progeny  of  Ham  ; you 
are  standing  up  for  them ; ” and  so  on,  for  half  an  hour  or 
more. 

Then  he  commences  to  verify  the  accounts.  At  the  same 
time,  he  thinks  about  the  hay.  Frol  is  sent  to  weigh  what 
is  left  of  that,  and  our  stepmother  is  sent  to  be  present  dur- 
ing the  weighing,  while  father  calculates  how  much  of  it 
ought  to  be  in  the  barn.  A considerable  quantity  of  hay 
appears  to  be  missing,  and  Uliana  cannot  account  for  several 
pounds  of  such  and  such  provisions.  Father’s  voice  becomes 
more  and  more  menacing ; Uliana  is  trembling ; but  it  is 
the  coachman  who  now  enters  the  room,  and  is  stormed  at 
by  his  master.  Father  springs  at  him,  strikes  him,  but  he 
keeps  repeating,  “ Your  highness  must  have  made  a mistake.” 

Father  repeats  his  calculations,  and  this  time  it  appears 
that  there  is  more  hay  in  the  barn  than  there  ought  to  be. 
The  shouting  continues ; he  now  reproaches  the  coachman 
with  not  having  given  the  horses  their  daily  rations  in  full ; 
but  the  coachman  calls  on  all  the  saints  to  witness  that  he 
gave  the  animals  their  due,  and  Frol  invokes  the  Virgin  to 
confirm  the  coachman’s  appeal. 

But  father  will  not  be  appeased.  He  calls  in  Makar,  the 
piano-tuner  and  sub-butler,  and  reminds  him  of  all  his  recent 
sins.  He  was  drunk  last  week,  and  must  have  been  drunk 
yesterday,  for  he  broke  half  a dozen  plates.  In  fact,  the 
breaking  of  these  plates  was  the  real  cause  of  all  the  disturb- 
ance : our  stepmother  had  reported  the  fact  to  father  in  tha 


FLOGGING  SERFS 


Si 

morning,  and  that  was  why  Uliana  was  received  with  more 
scolding  than  was  usually  the  case,  why  the  verification  of 
the  hay  was  undertaken,  and  why  father  now  continues  to 
shout  that  “ this  progeny  of  Ham  ” deserve  all  the  punish- 
ments on  earth. 

Of  a sudden  there  is  a lull  in  the  storm.  My  father  takes 
his  seat  at  the  table  and  writes  a note.  “ Take  Makar  with 
this  note  to  the  police  station,  and  let  a hundred  lashes  with 
the  birch  rod  be  given  to  him.” 

Terror  and  absolute  muteness  reign  in  the  house. 

The  clock  strikes  four,  and  we  all  go  down  to  dinner; 
but  no  one  has  any  appetite,  and  the  soup  remains  in  the 
plates  untouched.  We  are  ten  at  table,  and  behind  each 
of  us  a violinist  or  a trombone-player  stands,  with  a clean 
plate  in  his  left  hand ; but  Makar  is  not  among  them. 

“ Where  is  Makar  ? ” our  stepmother  asks.  “ Call  him  in.” 

Makar  does  not  appear,  and  the  order  is  repeated.  He 
enters  at  last,  pale,  with  a distorted  face,  ashamed,  his  eyes 
cast  down.  Father  looks  into  his  plate,  while  our  step- 
mother, seeing  that  no  one  has  touched  the  soup,  tries  to 
encourage  us. 

“ Don’t  you  find,  children,”  she  says,  “ that  the  soup  is 
delicious  ? ” 

Tears  suffocate  me,  and  immediately  after  dinner  is  over 
I run  out,  catch  Makar  in  a dark  passage,  and  try  to  kiss 
his  hand ; but  he  tears  it  away,  and  says,  either  as  a re- 
proach or  as  a question,  “ Let  me  alone  ; you,  too,  when  you 
are  grown  up,  will  you  not  be  just  the  same  ? ” 

“ No,  no,  never ! ” 

Yet  father  was  not  among  the  worst  of  landowners.  On 
the  contrary,  the  servants  and  the  peasants  considered  him 
one  of  the  best.  What  we  saw  in  our  house  was  going  on 
everywhere,  often  in  much  more  cruel  forms.  The  flogging 
of  the  serfs  was  a regular  part  of  the  duties  of  the  police 
and  of  the  fire  brigade. 


52 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


A landowner  once  made  the  remark  to  another,  “ Why  is 
it  that  the  number  of  souls  on  your  estate  increases  so 
slowly  ? You  probably  do  not  look  after  their  marriages.” 

A few  days  later  the  general  returned  to  his  estate.  He 
had  a list  of  all  the  inhabitants  of  his  village  brought  him, 
and  picked  out  from  it  the  names  of  the  boys  who  had  at- 
tained the  age  of  eighteen,  and  the  girls  just  past  sixteen,  — 
these  are  the  legal  ages  for  marriage  in  Russia.  Then  he 
wrote,  “John  to  marry  Anna,  Paul  to  marry  Pardshka,” 
and  so  on  with  five  couples.  “The  five  weddings,”  he  added, 
“ must  take  place  in  ten  days,  the  next  Sunday  but  one.” 

A general  cry  of  despair  rose  from  the  village.  Women, 
young  and  old,  wept  in  every  house.  Anna  had  hoped  to 
marry  Gregory  ; Paul’s  parents  had  already  had  a talk  with 
the  Feddtoffs  about  their  girl,  who  would  soon  be  of  age. 
Moreover,  it  was  the  season  for  ploughing,  not  for  weddings  ; 
and  what  wedding  can  be  prepared  in  ten  days  ? Dozens 
of  peasants  came  to  see  the  landowner ; peasant  women 
stood  in  groups  at  the  back  entrance  of  the  estate,  with 
pieces  of  fine  linen  for  the  landowner’s  spouse,  to  secure  her 
intervention.  All  in  vain.  The  master  had  said  that  the 
weddings  should  take  place  at  such  a date,  and  so  it  must  be. 

At  the  appointed  time,  the  nuptial  processions,  in  this 
case  more  like  burial  processions,  went  to  the  church.  The 
women  cried  with  loud  voices,  as  they  are  wont  to  cry  dur- 
ing burials.  One  of  the  house  valets  was  sent  to  the  church, 
to  report  to  the  master  as  soon  as  the  wedding  ceremonies 
were  over ; but  soon  he  came  running  back,  cap  in  hand, 
pale  and  distressed. 

“Parashka,”  he  said,  “makes  a stand;  she  refuses  to  be 
married  to  Paul.  Father  ” (that  is,  the  priest)  “ asked  her, 
‘Do  you  agree?’  but  she  replied  in  a loud  voice,  ‘No,  I 
don’t.’  ” 

The  landowner  grew  furious.  “ Go  and  tell  that  long- 
maned drunkard  ” (meaning  the  priest ; the  Russian  clergy 


MARRIAGE  AMONG  THE  SERFS 


53 


wear  their  hair  long)  (t  that  if  Parashka  is  not  married  at 
once,  I will  report  him  as  a drunkard  to  the  archbishop. 
How  dares  he,  clerical  dirt,  disobey  me  ? Tell  him  he  shall 
be  sent  to  rot  in  a monastery,  and  I shall  exile  Parashka’s 
family  to  the  steppes.” 

The  valet  transmitted  the  message.  Parashka’s  relatives 
and  the  priest  surrounded  the  girl ; her  mother,  weeping, 
fell  on  her  knees  before  her,  entreating  her  not  to  ruin  the 
whole  family.  The  girl  continued  to  say  “I  won’t,”  but 
in  a weaker  and  weaker  voice,  then  in  a whisper,  until  at 
last  she  stood  silent.  The  nuptial  crown  was  put  on  her 
head ; she  made  no  resistance,  and  the  valet  ran  full  speed 
to  the  mansion  to  announce,  “ They  are  married.” 

Half  an  hour  later,  the  small  bells  of  the  nuptial  pro- 
cessions resounded  at  the  gate  of  the  mansion.  The  five 
couples  alighted  from  the  cars,  crossed  the  yard,  and  entered 
the  hall.  The  landlord  received  them,  offering  them  glasses 
of  wine,  while  the  parents,  standing  behind  the  crying 
daughters,  ordered  them  to  bow  to  the  earth  before  their 
lord. 

Marriages  by  order  were  so  common  that  amongst  our 
servants,  each  time  a young  couple  foresaw  that  they  might 
be  ordered  to  marry,  although  they  had  no  mutual  inclina- 
tion for  each  other,  they  took  the  precaution  of  standing 
together  as  godfather  and  godmother  at  the  christening  of  a 
child  in  one  of  the  peasant  families.  This  rendered  mar- 
riage impossible,  according  to  Russian  Church  law.  The 
stratagem  was  usually  successful,  but  once  it  ended  in  a 
tragedy.  Andrei,  the  tailor,  fell  in  love  with  a girl  belong- 
ing to  one  of  our  neighbors.  He  hoped  that  my  father 
would  permit  him  to  go  free,  as  a tailor,  in  exchange  for  a 
certain  yearly  payment,  and  that  by  working  hard  at  his 
trade  he  could  manage  to  lay  aside  some  money  and  to  buy 
freedom  for  the  girl.  Otherwise,  in  marrying  one  of  my 
lather’s  serfs  she  would  have  become  the  serf  of  her  hus* 


54 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


band’s  master.  However,  as  Andrdi  and  one  of  the  maids 
of  our  household  foresaw  that  they  might  be  ordered  to 
marry,  they  agreed  to  unite  as  god-parents  in  the  christening 
of  a child.  What  they  had  feared  happened  : one  day  they 
were  called  to  the  master,  and  the  dreaded  order  was  given. 

“ We  are  always  obedient  to  your  will,”  they  replied, 
“ but  a few  weeks  ago  we  acted  as  godfather  and  godmother 
at  a christening.”  Andrei  also  explained  his  wishes  and 
intentions.  The  result  was  that  he  was  sent  to  the  recruit- 
ing board  to  become  a soldier. 

Under  Nicholas  I.  there  was  no  obligatory  military  ser- 
vice for  all,  such  as  now  exists.  Nobles  and  merchants 
were  exempt,  and  when  a new  levy  of  recruits  was  ordered, 
the  landowners  had  to  supply  a certain  number  of  men  from 
their  serfs.  As  a rule,  the  peasants,  within  their  village 
communities,  kept  a roll  amongst  themselves ; but  the  house 
servants  were  entirely  at  the  mercy  of  their  lord,  and  if  he 
was  dissatisfied  with  one  of  them,  he  sent  him  to  the  recruit- 
ing board  and  took  a recruit  acquittance,  which  had  a con- 
siderable money  value,  as  it  could  be  sold  to  any  one  whose 
turn  it  was  to  become  a soldier. 

Military  service  in  those  times  was  terrible.  A man  was 
required  to  serve  twenty-five  years  under  the  colors,  and 
the  life  of  a soldier  was  hard  in  the  extreme.  To  become 
a soldier  meant  to  be  torn  away  forever  from  one’s  native 
village  and  surroundings,  and  to  be  at  the  mercy  of  officers 
like  Timofeeff,  whom  I have  already  mentioned.  Blows 
from  the  officers,  flogging  with  birch  rods  and  with  sticks, 
for  the  slightest  fault,  were  normal  affairs.  The  cruelty 
that  was  displayed  surpasses  all  imagination.  Even  in  the 
corps  of  cadets,  where  only  noblemen’s  sons  were  educated, 
a thousand  blows  with  birch  rods  were  sometimes  adminis- 
tered, in  the  presence  of  all  the  corps,  for  a cigarette,  — the 
doctor  standing  by  the  tortured  boy,  and  ordering  the  pun- 
ishment to  end  only  when  he  ascertained  that  the  pulse  was 


MILITARY  SERVICE  UNDER  NICHOLAS  I 


55 


about  to  stop  beating.  The  bleeding  victim  was  carried 
away  unconscious  to  the  hospital.  The  commander  of  the 
military  schools,  the  Grand  Duke  Mikhael,  would  quickly 
have  removed  the  director  of  a corps  who  had  not  had  one 
or  two  such  cases  every  year.  “No  discipline,”  he  would 
have  said. 

With  common  soldiers  it  was  far  worse.  When  one  of 
them  appeared  before  a court-martial,  the  sentence  was  that 
a thousand  men  should  be  placed  in  two  ranks  facing  each 
other,  every  soldier  armed  with  a stick  of  the  thickness  of 
the  little  finger  (these  sticks  were  known  under  their  Ger- 
man name  of  Spitzruthen) , and  that  the  condemned  man 
should  be  dragged  three,  four,  five,  and  seven  times  between 
these  two  rows,  each  soldier  administering  a blow.  Ser- 
geants followed  to  see  that  full  force  was  used.  After  one 
or  two  thousand  blows  had  been  given,  the  victim,  spitting 
blood,  was  taken  to  the  hospital  and  attended  to,  in  order 
that  the  punishment  might  be  finished  as  soon  as  he  had 
more  or  less  recovered  from  the  effects  of  the  first  part  of  it. 
If  he  died  under  the  torture,  the  execution  of  the  sentence 
was  completed  upon  the  corpse.  Nicholas  I.  and  his  brother 
Mikhael  were  pitiless  ; no  remittance  of  the  punishment  was 
ever  possible.  “ I will  send  you  through  the  ranks  ; you 
shall  be  skinned  under  the  sticks,”  were  threats  which  made 
part  of  the  current  language. 

A gloomy  terror  used  to  spread  through  our  house  when 
it  became  known  that  one  of  the  servants  was  to  be  sent  to 
the  recruiting  board.  The  man  was  chained  and  placed 
under  guard  in  the  office,  to  prevent  suicide.  A peasant- 
cart  was  brought  to  the  office  door,  and  the  doomed  man 
was  taken  out  between  two  watchmen.  All  the  servants 
surrounded  him.  He  made  a deep  bow,  asking  every  one 
to  pardon  him  his  willing  or  unwilling  offenses.  If  his 
father  and  mother  lived  in  our  village,  they  came  to  see  him 
off.  He  bowed  to  the  ground  before  them,  and  his  mother 


56 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


and  his  other  female  relatives  began  loudly  to  sing  out  theit 
lamentations,  — a sort  of  half-song  and  half-recitative  : “ To 
whom  do  you  abandon  us  ? Who  will  take  care  of  you 
in  the  strange  lands  ? Who  will  protect  you  from  cruel 
men  ? ” — exactly  in  the  same  way  in  which  they  sang  their 
lamentations  at  a burial,  and  with  the  same  words. 

Thus  Andrei  had  now  to  face  for  twenty-five  years  the 
terrible  fate  of  a soldier : all  his  schemes  of  happiness  had 
come  to  a violent  end. 

The  fate  of  one  of  the  maids,  Pauline,  or  Pdlya,  as  she 
used  to  be  called,  was  even  more  tragical.  She  had  been 
apprenticed  to  make  fine  embroidery,  and  was  an  artist  at 
the  work.  At  Nikdlskoye  her  embroidery  frame  stood  in 
sister  Hdlene’s  room,  and  she  often  took  part  in  the  con- 
versations that  went  on  between  our  sister  and  a sister  of  our 
stepmother  who  stayed  with  Helfene.  Altogether,  by  her 
behavior  and  talk  Polya  was  more  like  an  educated  young 
person  than  a housemaid. 

A misfortune  befell  her : she  realized  that  she  would 
soon  be  a mother.  She  told  all  to  our  stepmother,  who 
burst  into  reproaches  : “ I will  not  have  that  creature  in  my 
house  any  longer ! I will  not  permit  such  a shame  in  my 
house  1 oh,  the  shameless  creature  ! ” and  so  on.  The  tears 
of  Helene  made  no  difference.  Pdlya  had  her  hair  cut 
short,  and  was  exiled  to  the  dairy  ; but  as  she  was  just 
embroidering  an  extraordinary  skirt,  she  had  to  finish  it  at 
the  dairy,  in  a dirty  cottage,  at  a microscopical  window. 
She  finished  it,  and  made  many  more  fine  embroideries,  all 
in  the  hope  of  obtaining  her  pardon.  But  pardon  did  not 
come. 

The  father  of  her  child,  a servant  of  one  of  our  neigh- 
bors, implored  permission  to  marry  her ; but  as  he  had  no 
money  to  offer,  his  request  was  refused.  Pdlya’s  “ too  gen- 
tlewoman-like manners  ” were  taken  as  an  offense,  and  a 


EDUCATION  OF  SERFS 


57 


most  bitter  fate  was  kept  in  reserve  for  her.  There  was  in 
our  household  a man  employed  as  a postilion,  on  account  of 
his  small  size ; he  went  under  the  name  of  “ bandy-legged 
Filka.”  In  his  boyhood  a horse  had  kicked  him  terribly, 
and  he  did  not  grow.  His  legs  were  crooked,  his  feet  were 
turned  inward,  his  nose  was  broken  and  turned  to  one  side, 
his  jaw  was  deformed.  To  this  monster  it  was  decided  to 
marry  Pdlya,  — and  she  was  married  by  force.  The  couple 
were  sent  to  become  peasants  at  my  father’s  estate  in 
Kyazan. 

Human  feelings  were  not  recognized,  not  even  suspected, 
in  serfs,  and  when  Turgueneff  published  his  little  story 
“ Mumii,”  and  Grigordvich  began  to  issue  his  thrilling  nov- 
els, in  which  he  made  his  readers  weep  over  the  misfortunes 
of  the  serfs,  it  was  to  a great  number  of  persons  a startling 
revelation.  “They  love  just  as  we  do;  is  it  possible?” 
exclaimed  the  sentimental  ladies  who  could  not  read  a 
French  novel  without  shedding  tears  over  the  troubles  of 
the  noble  heroes  and  heroines. 

The  education  which  the  owners  occasionally  gave  to 
some  of  their  serfs  was  only  another  source  of  misfortune 
for  the  latter.  My  father  once  picked  out  in  a peasant 
house  a clever  boy,  and  sent  him  to  be  educated  as  a 
doctor’s  assistant.  The  boy  was  diligent,  and  after  a few 
years’  apprenticeship  made  a decided  success.  When  he 
returned  home,  my  father  bought  all  that  was  required  for 
a well-equipped  dispensary,  which  was  arranged  very  nicely 
in  one  of  the  side  houses  of  Nikdlskoye.  In  summer  time, 
Sasha  the  Doctor  — that  was  the  familiar  name  under 
which  this  young  man  went  in  the  household  — was  busy 
gathering  and  preparing  all  sorts  of  medieal  herbs,  and  in 
a short  time  he  became  most  popular  in  the  region  round 
Nikdlskoye.  The  sick  people  among  the  peasants  came 
from  the  neighboring  villages,  and  my  father  was  proud 


58 


MEMOIKS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


of  the  success  of  his  dispensary.  But  this  condition  of 
things  did  not  last.  One  winter,  my  father  came  to  3STik<51- 
skoye,  stayed  there  for  a few  days,  and  left.  That  night 
Sasha  the  Doctor  shot  himself,  — by  accident,  it  was  re- 
ported ; but  there  was  a love-story  at  the  bottom  of  it. 
He  was  in  love  with  a girl  whom  he  could  not  marry,  as 
she  belonged  to  another  landowner. 

The  case  of  another  young  man,  Gherasim  Krugldff, 
whom  my  father  educated  at  the  Moscow  Agricultural 
Institute,  was  almost  equally  sad.  He  passed  his  examina- 
tions most  brilliantly,  getting  a gold  medal,  and  the  director 
of  the  Institute  made  all  possible  endeavors  to  induce  my 
father  to  give  him  freedom  and  to  let  him  go  to  the  uni- 
versity, — serfs  not  being  allowed  to  enter  there.  “ He  is 
sure  to  become  a remarkable  man,”  the  director  said,  “ per- 
haps one  of  the  glories  of  Russia,  and  it  will  be  an  honor 
for  you  to  have  recognized  his  capacities  and  to  have  given 
such  a man  to  Russian  science.” 

“ I need  him  for  my  own  estate,”  my  father  replied  to 
the  manj'  applications  made  on  the  young  man’s  behalf. 
In  reality,  with  the  primitive  methods  of  agriculture  which 
were  then  in  use,  and  from  which  my  father  would  never 
have  departed,  Gherdsim  Krugldff  was  absolutely  useless. 
He  made  a survey  of  the  estate,  but  when  that  was  done 
he  was  ordered  to  sit  in  the  servants’  room  and  to  stand 
with  a plate  at  dinner-time.  Of  course  Gherasim  resented 
it  very  much ; his  dreams  carried  him  to  the  university, 
to  scientific  work.  His  looks  betrayed  his  discontent, 
and  our  stepmother  seemed  to  find  an  especial  pleasure 
in  offending  him  at  every  opportunity.  One  day  in  the 
autumn,  a rush  of  wind  having  opened  the  entrance 
gate,  she  called  out  to  him,  “ Gardska,  go  and  shut  the 
gate.” 

That  was  the  last  drop.  He  answered,  “ You  have  a 
porter  for  that,”  and  went  his  way. 


A SUCCESSFUL  SEEF  59 

My  stepmother  ran  into  father’s  room,  crying,  “Your 
servants  insult  me  in  your  house  ! ” 

Immediately  Gherasim  was  put  under  arrest  and  chained, 
to  be  sent  away  as  a soldier.  The  parting  of  his  old  father 
and  mother  with  him  was  one  of  the  most  heart-rending 
scenes  I ever  saw. 

This  time,  however,  fate  took  its  revenge.  Nicholas  I. 
died,  and  military  service  became  more  tolerable.  Gherd- 
sim’s  great  ability  was  soon  remarked,  and  in  a few  years 
he  was  one  of  the  chief  clerks,  and  the  real  working  force 
in  one  of  the  departments  of  the  ministry  of  war.  Mean- 
while, my  father,  who  was  absolutely  honest,  and,  at  a 
time  when  almost  every  one  was  receiving  bribes  and  mak- 
ing fortunes,  had  never  let  himself  be  bribed,  departed 
once  from  the  strict  rules  of  the  service,  in  order  to  oblige 
the  commander  of  the  corps  to  which  he  belonged,  and 
consented  to  allow  an  irregularity  of  some  kind.  It  nearly 
cost  him  his  promotion  to  the  rank  of  general ; the  only 
object  of  his  thirty-five  years’  service  in  the  army  seemed 
on  the  point  of  being  lost.  My  stepmother  went  to  St. 
Petersburg  to  remove  the  difficulty,  and  one  day,  after 
many  applications,  she  was  told  that  the  only  way  to  obtain 
what  she  wanted  was  to  address  herself  to  a particular 
clerk  in  a certain  department  of  the  ministry.  Although 
he  was  a mere  clerk,  he  was  the  real  head  of  his  superiors, 
and  could  do  everything.  This  man’s  name  was  — Ghera- 
sim Ivdnovich  Krugldff ! 

“ Imagine,  our  Garaska ! ” she  said  to  me  afterward. 
“ I always  knew  that  he  had  great  capacity.  I went  to  see 
him,  and  spoke  to  him  about  this  affair,  and  he  said,  ‘ I 
have  nothing  against  the  old  prince,  and  I will  do  all  I can 
for  him.’  ” 

Gherasim  kept  his  word  : he  made  a favorable  report, 
and  my  father  got  his  promotion.  At  last  ho  could  put  on 
the  long-coveted  red  trousers  and  the  red-lined  overcoat, 
and  could  wear  the  plumage  on  his  helmet. 


60 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


These  were  things  which  I myself  saw  in  my  childhood. 
If,  however,  I were  to  relate  what  I heard  of  in  those 
years,  it  would  be  a much  more  gruesome  narrative : stories 
of  men  and  women  torn  from  their  families  and  their 
villages,  and  sold,  or  lost  in  gambling,  or  exchanged  for  a 
couple  of  hunting  dogs,  and  then  transported  to  some  re- 
mote part  of  Russia  for  the  sake  of  creating  a new  estate ; 
of  children  taken  from  their  parents  and  sold  to  cruel  or 
dissolute  masters ; of  flogging  “ in  the  stables,”  which 
occurred  every  day  with  unheard-of  cruelty ; of  a girl  who 
found  her  only  salvation  in  drowning  herself ; of  an  old 
man  who  had  grown  gray-haired  in  his  master’s  service, 
and  at  last  hanged  himself  under  his  master’s  window ; and 
of  revolts  of  serfs,  which  were  suppressed  by  Nicholas  I.’s 
generals  by  flogging  to  death  each  tenth  or  fifth  man  taken 
out  of  the  ranks,  and  by  laying  waste  the  village,  whose 
inhabitants,  after  a military  execution,  went  begging  for 
bread  in  the  neighboring  provinces.  As  to  the  poverty 
which  I saw  during  our  journeys  in  certain  villages,  espe- 
cially in  those  which  belonged  to  the  imperial  family,  no 
words  would  be  adequate  to  describe  the  misery  to  readers 
who  have  not  seen  it. 

To  become  free  was  the  constant  dream  of  the  serfs,  — 
a dream  not  easily  realized,  for  a heavy  sum  of  money  was 
required  to  induce  a landowner  to  part  with  a serf. 

“ Do  you  know,”  my  father  said  to  me,  once,  “ that  your 
mother  appeared  to  me  after  her  death  ? You  young  peo- 
ple do  not  believe  in  these  things,  but  it  was  so.  I sat 
one  night  very  late  in  this  chair,  at  my  writing-table,  and 
slumbered,  when  I saw  her  enter  from  behind,  all  in  white, 
quite  pale,  and  with  her  eyes  gleaming.  When  she  was 
dying  she  begged  me  to  promise  that  I would  give  liberty 
to  her  maid,  Masha,  and  I did  promise ; but  then,  what 
with  one  thing  and  another,  nearly  a whole  year  passed 


HOW  MASHA  SECURED  HER  FREEDOM 


61 


without  my  having  fulfilled  my  intention.  Then  she  ap- 
peared, and  said  to  me  in  a low  voice,  ‘Alexis,  you  pro- 
mised me  to  give  liberty  to  Masha  ; have  you  forgotten 
it  ? ’ I was  quite  terrified ; I jumped  out  of  my  chair, 
but  she  had  vanished.  I called  the  servants,  but  no  one 
had  seen  anything.  Next  morning  I went  to  her  grave 
and  had  a litany  sung,  and  immediately  gave  liberty  to 
Masha.” 

When  my  father  died,  Masha  came  to  his  burial,  and  I 
spoke  to  her.  She  was  married,  and  quite  happy  in  her 
family  life.  My  brother  Alexander,  in  his  jocose  way,  told 
her  what  my  father  had  said,  and  we  asked  her  what  she 
knew  of  it. 

“ These  things,”  she  replied,  “ happened  a long  time  ago, 
so  I may  tell  you  the  truth.  I saw  that  your  father  had 
quite  forgotten  his  promise,  so  I dressed  up  in  white  and 
spoke  like  your  mother.  I recalled  the  promise  he  had 
made  to  her,  — you  won’t  bear  a grudge  against  me,  will 
you  ? ” 

“ Of  course  not ! ” 

Ten  or  twelve  years  after  the  scenes  described  in  the 
early  part  of  this  chapter,  I sat  one  night  in  my  father’s 
room,  and  we  talked  of  things  past.  Serfdom  had  been 
abolished,  and  my  father  complained  of  the  new  conditions, 
though  not  very  severely ; he  had  accepted  them  without 
much  grumbling. 

“You  must  agree,  father,”  I said,  “that  you  often  pun- 
ished your  servants  cruelly,  and  even  without  reason.” 

“With  the  people,”  he  replied,  “it  was  impossible  to  do 
otherwise ; ” and,  leaning  back  in  his  easy-chair,  he  re- 
mained plunged  in  thought.  “ But  what  I did  was  nothing 
worth  speaking  of,”  he  said,  after  a long  pause.  “ Take 
that  same  SdblefF : he  looks  so  soft,  and  talks  in  such  a thin 
voice ; but  he  was  really  terrible  with  his  serfs.  How  many 


62 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


times  they  plotted  to  kill  him!  I,  at  least,  never  took 

advantage  of  my  maids,  whereas  that  old  devil  T went 

on  in  such  a way  that  the  peasant  women  were  going  to 
inflict  a terrible  punishment  upon  him.  . . . Good-by, 
bonne  nuit  I ” 


IX 


I well  remember  the  Crimean  war.  At  Moscow  it  af- 
fected people  but  little.  Of  course,  in  every  house  lint  and 
bandages  for  the  wounded  were  made  at  evening  parties : 
not  much  of  it,  however,  reached  the  Russian  armies,  im- 
mense quantities  being  stolen  and  sold  to  the  armies  of  the 
enemy.  My  sister  Helene  and  other  young  ladies  sang 
patriotic  songs,  but  the  general  tone  of  life  in  society  was 
hardly  influenced  by  the  great  struggle  that  was  going  on. 
In  the  country,  on  the  contrary,  the  war  caused  terrible 
gloominess.  The  levies  of  recruits  followed  one  another 
rapidly,  and  we  continually  heard  the  peasant  women  sing- 
ing their  funereal  songs.  The  Russian  people  look  upon 
war  as  a calamity  which  is  being  sent  upon  them  by  Provi- 
dence, and  they  accepted  this  war  with  a solemnity  that 
contrasted  strangely  with  the  levity  I saw  elsewhere  under 
similar  circumstances.  Young  though  I was,  I realized  that 
feeling  of  solemn  resignation  which  pervaded  our  villages. 

My  brother  Nicholas  was  smitten  like  many  others  by 
the  war  fever,  and  before  he  had  ended  his  course  at  the 
corps  he  joined  the  army  in  the  Caucasus.  I never  saw  him 
again. 

In  the  autumn  of  1854  our  family  was  increased  by  the 
arrival  of  two  sisters  of  our  stepmother.  They  had  had 
their  own  house  and  some  vineyards  at  Sebastopol,  but  now 
they  were  homeless,  and  came  to  stay  with  us.  When  the 
allies  landed  in  the  Crimea,  the  inhabitants  of  Sebastopol 
were  told  that  they  need  not  be  afraid,  and  had  only  to  stay 
where  they  were ; but  after  the  defeat  at  the  Alma,  they 
were  ordered  to  leave  with  all  haste,  as  the  city  would  be 


64 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


invested  within  a few  days.  There  were  few  conveyances, 
and  there  was  no  way  of  moving  along  the  roads  in  face  of 
the  troops  which  were  marching  southward.  To  hire  a cart 
was  almost  impossible,  and  the  ladies,  having  abandoned  all 
they  had  on  the  road,  had  a very  hard  time  of  it  before  they 
reached  Moscow. 

I soon  made  friends  with  the  younger  of  the  two  sisters, 
a lady  of  about  thirty,  who  used  to  smoke  one  cigarette 
after  another,  and  to  tell  me  of  all  the  horrors  of  their 
journey.  She  spoke  with  tears  in  her  eyes  of  the  beautiful 
battle-ships  which  had  to  be  sunk  at  the  entrance  of  the 
harbor  of  Sebastopol,  and  she  could  not  understand  how  the 
Russians  would  be  able  to  defend  Sebastopol  from  the  land ; 
there  wa-s  no  wall  even  worth  speaking  of. 

I was  in  my  thirteenth  year  when  Nicholas  I.  died.  It 
was  late  in  the  afternoon,  the  18th  of  February  (2d  of 
March),  that  the  policemen  distributed  in  all  the  houses 
of  Moscow  a bulletin  announcing  the  illness  of  the  Tsar, 
and  inviting  the  inhabitants  to  pray  in  the  churches  for  his 
recovery.  At  that  time  he  was  already  dead,  and  the  au- 
thorities knew  it,  as  there  was  telegraphic  communication 
between  Moscow  and  St.  Petersburg  ; but  not  a word  having 
been  previously  uttered  about  his  illness,  they  thought  that 
the  people  must  be  gradually  prepared  for  the  announce- 
ment of  his  death.  We  all  went  to  church  and  prayed 
most  piously. 

Next  day,  Saturday,  the  same  thing  was  done,  and  even 
on  Sunday  morning  bulletins  about  the  Tsar’s  health  were 
distributed.  The  news  of  the  death  of  Nicholas  reached  us 
only  about  midday,  through  some  servants  who  had  been  to 
the  market.  A real  terror  reigned  in  our  house  and  in  the 
houses  of  our  relatives,  as  the  information  spread.  It  was 
said  that  the  people  in  the  market  behaved  in  a strange  way, 
showing  no  regret,  but  indulging  in  dangerous  talk.  Full- 
grown  people  spoke  in  whispers,  and  our  stepmother  kept 


DEATH  OF  NICHOLAS  I 


65 


repeating,  “ Don’t  talk  before  tbe  men ; ” while  the  servants 
whispered  among  themselves,  probably  about  the  coming 
“ freedom.”  The  nobles  expected  at  every  moment  a revolt 
of  the  serfs,  — a new  uprising  of  Pugachdff. 

At  St.  Petersburg,  in  the  meantime,  men  of  the  educated 
classes,  as  they  communicated  to  one  another  the  news,  em- 
braced in  the  streets.  Every  one  felt  that  the  end  of  the 
war  and  the  end  of  the  terrible  conditions  which  prevailed 
under  the  “iron  despot”  were  near  at  hand.  Poisoning 
was  talked  about,  the  more  so  as  the  Tsar’s  body  decom- 
posed very  rapidly,  but  the  true  reason  only  gradually 
leaked  out : a too  strong  dose  of  an  invigorating  medicine 
that  Nicholas  had  taken. 

In  the  country,  during  the  summer  of  1855,  the  heroic 
struggle  which  was  going  on  in  Sebastopol  for  every  yard  of 
ground  and  every  bit  of  its  dismantled  bastions  was  followed 
with  a solemn  interest.  A messenger  was  sent  regularly 
twice  a week  from  our  house  to  the  district  town  to  get  the 
papers ; and  on  his  return,  even  before  he  had  dismounted, 
the  papers  were  taken  from  his  hands  and  opened.  Helhne 
or  I read  them  aloud  to  the  family,  and  the  news  was  at 
once  transmitted  to  the  servants’  room,  and  thence  to  the 
kitchen,  the  office,  the  priest’s  house,  and  the  houses  of  the 
peasants.  The  reports  which  came  of  the  last  days  of 
Sebastopol,  of  the  awful  bombardment,  and  finally  of  the 
evacuation  of  the  town  by  our  troops  were  received  with 
tears.  In  every  country-house  round  about,  the  loss  of 
Sebastopol  was  mourned  over  with  as  much  grief  as  the 
loss  of  a near  relative  would  have  been,  although  every  one 
understood  that  now  the  terrible  war  would  soon  come  to 
an  end. 


X 


It  was  in  August,  1857,  when  I was  nearly  fifteen,  that 
my  turn  came  to  enter  the  corps  of  pages,  and  I was  taken 
to  St.  Petersburg.  When  I left  home  I was  still  a child ; 
but  human  character  is  usually  settled  in  a definite  way  at 
an  earlier  age  than  is  generally  supposed,  and  it  is  evident 
to  me  that  under  my  childish  appearance  I was  then  very 
much  what  I was  to  be  later  on.  My  tastes,  my  inclina- 
tions, were  already  determined. 

The  first  impulse  to  my  intellectual  development  was 
given,  as  I have  said,  by  my  Russian  teacher.  It  is  an 
excellent  habit  in  Russian  families  — a habit  now,  unhap- 
pily, on  the  decline  — to  have  in  the  house  a student 
who  aids  the  boys  and  the  girls  with  their  lessons,  even 
when  they  are  at  a gymnasium.  For  a better  assimila- 
tion of  what  they  learn  at  school,  and  for  a widening  of 
their  conceptions  about  what  they  learn,  his  aid  is  invalu- 
able. Moreover,  he  introduces  an  intellectual  element  into 
the  family,  and  becomes  an  elder  brother  to  the  young 
people,  — often  something  better  than  an  elder  brother, 
because  the  student  has  a certain  responsibility  for  the 
progress  of  his  pupils ; and  as  the  methods  of  teaching 
change  rapidly,  from  one  generation  to  another,  he  can 
assist  his  pupils  much  better  than  the  best  educated  parents 
could. 

Nikol&i  Pdvlovich  Smirndff  had  literary  tastes.  At  that 
time,  under  the  wild  censorship  of  Nicholas  I.,  many  quite 
inoffensive  works  by  our  best  writers  could  not  be  published  ; 
others  were  so  mutilated  as  to  deprive  some  passages  in 
them  of  any  meaning.  In  the  genial  comedy  by  Griboye* 


INTELLECTUAL  DEVELOPMENT 


67 


doff,  “ Misfortune  from  Intelligence,”  which  ranks  with  the 
best  comedies  of  Moliere,  Colonel  Skalozub  had  to  be  named 
“ Mr.  Skalozub,”  to  the  detriment  of  the  sense  and  even  of 
the  verses  ; for  the  representation  of  a colonel  in  a comical 
light  would  have  been  considered  an  insult  to  the  army. 
Of  so  innocent  a book  as  Gdgol’s  “ Dead  Souls  ” the  second 
part  was  not  allowed  to  appear,  nor  the  first  part  to  be  re- 
printed, although  it  had  long  been  out  of  print.  Numer- 
ous verses  of  Pushkin,  Lermontoff,  A.  K.  Tolstdi,  Byldeff, 
and  other  poets  were  not  permitted  to  see  the  light ; to  say 
nothing  of  such  verses  as  had  any  political  meaning  or  con- 
tained a criticism  of  the  prevailing  conditions.  All  these 
circulated  in  manuscript,  and  Smirndff  used  to  copy  whole 
books  of  Gdgol  and  Pushkin  for  himself  and  his  friends,  a 
task  in  which  I occasionally  helped  him.  As  a true  child 
of  Moscow  he  was  also  imbued  with  the  deepest  veneration 
for  those  of  our  writers  who  lived  in  Moscow,  — some  of 
them  in  the  Old  Equerries’  Quarter.  He  pointed  out  to 
me  with  respect  the  house  of  the  Countess  Salihs  (Eugenie 
Tour),  who  was  our  near  neighbor,  while  the  house  of  the 
noted  exile  Alexander  Herzen  always  was  associated  with  a 
certain  mysterious  feeling  of  respect  and  awe.  The  house 
where  Gdgol  lived  was  for  us  an  object  of  deep  respect,  and 
though  I was  not  nine  when  he  died  (in  1851),  and  had 
read  none  of  his  works,  I remember  well  the  sadness  his 
death  produced  at  Moscow.  Turgudneff  well  expressed 
that  feeling  in  a note,  for  which  Nicholas  I.  ordered  him  to 
be  put  under  arrest  and  sent  into  exile  to  his  estate. 

Pushkin’s  great  poem,  “ Evghdniy  Onydghin,”  made  but 
tittle  impression  upon  me,  and  I still  admire  the  marvelous 
simplicity  and  beauty  of  his  style  in  that  poem  more  than 
its  contents.  But  Gdgol’s  works,  which  I read  when  I was 
eleven  or  twelve,  had  a powerful  effect  on  my  mind,  and 
my  first  literary  essays  were  in  imitation  of  his  humorous 
manner.  An  historical  novel  by  Zagdskin,  “ Yuriy  Milosldv* 


68 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


skiy,”  about  the  times  of  the  great  uprising  of  1612,  Pdsh 
kin’s  “The  Captain’s  Daughter,”  dealing  with  the  Puga* 
chdff  uprising,  and  Dumas’s  “ Queen  Marguerite  ” awakened 
in  me  a lasting  interest  in  history.  As  to  other  French 
novels,  I have  only  begun  to  read  them  since  Daudet  and 
Zola  came  to  the  front.  NekrasotPs  poetry  was  my  favorite 
from  early  years ; I knew  many  of  his  verses  by  heart. 

Nikolai  Pavlovich  early  began  to  make  me  write,  and  with 
his  aid  I wrote  a long  “ History  of  a Sixpence,”  for  which 
we  invented  all  sorts  of  characters,  into  whose  possession 
the  sixpence  fell.  My  brother  Alexander  had  at  that  time 
a much  more  poetical  turn  of  mind.  He  wrote  most  roman- 
tic stories,  and  began  early  to  make  verses,  which  he  did 
with  wonderful  facility  and  in  a most  musical  and  easy 
style.  If  his  mind  had  not  subsequently  been  taken  up  by 
natural  history  and  philosophical  studies,  he  undoubtedly 
would  have  become  a poet  of  mark.  In  those  years  his 
favorite  resort  for  finding  poetical  inspiration  was  the  gently 
slooping  roof  underneath  our  window.  This  aroused  in  me 
a constant  desire  to  tease  him.  “There  is  the  poet  sit- 
ting under  the  chimney-pot,  trying  to  write  his  verses,”  I 
used  to  say ; and  the  teasing  ended  in  a fierce  scrimmage, 
which  brought  our  sister  Helene  to  a state  of  despair.  But 
Alexander  was  so  devoid  of  revengefulness  that  peace 
was  soon  concluded,  and  we  loved  each  other  immensely. 
Among  boys,  scrimmage  and  love  seem  to  go  hand  in  hand. 

I had  even  then  taken  to  journalism.  In  my  twelfth 
year  I began  to  edit  a daily  journal.  Paper  was  not  to  be 
had  at  will  in  our  house,  and  my  journal  was  in  32°  only. 
As  the  Crimean  war  had  not  yet  broken  out,  and  the  only 
newspaper  which  my  father  used  to  receive  was  the  Gazette 
of  the  Moscow  police,  I had  not  a great  choice  of  models. 
As  a result  my  own  Gazette  consisted  merely  of  short  para- 
graphs announcing  the  news  of  the  day : as,  “ Went  out  to 
the  woods.  N.  P.  Smirndff  shot  two  thrushes,”  and  so  on. 


EARLY  EXPERIENCE  IN  JOURNALISM 


69 


This  soon  ceased  to  satisfy  me,  and  in  1855  I started  a 
monthly  review,  which  contained  Alexander’s  verses,  my 
novelettes,  and  some  sort  of  “ varieties.”  The  material 
existence  of  this  review  was  fully  guaranteed,  for  it  had 
plenty  of  subscribers ; that  is,  the  editor  himself  and 
Smirndff,  who  regularly  paid  his  subscription,  of  so  many 
sheets  of  paper,  even  after  he  had  left  our  house.  In  return, 
I accurately  wrote  out  for  my  faithful  subscriber  a second 
copy. 

When  Smirndff  left  us,  and  a student  of  medicine,  N.  M. 
Pdvloff,  took  his  place,  the  latter  helped  me  in  my  editorial 
duties.  He  obtained  for  the  review  a poem  by  one  of  his 
friends,  and  — still  more  important  — the  introductory  lec* 
ture  on  physical  geography  by  one  of  the  Moscow  professors. 
Of  course  this  had  not  been  printed  before  : a reproduction 
would  never  have  found  its  way  into  the  review. 

Alexander,  I need  not  say,  took  a lively  interest  in  the 
paper,  and  its  renown  soon  reached  the  corps  of  cadets. 
Some  young  writers  on  the  way  to  fame  undertook  the 
publication  of  a rival.  The  matter  was  serious : in  poems 
and  novels  we  could  hold  our  own  ; but  they  had  a “ critic,” 
and  a “ critic  ” who  writes,  in  connection  with  the  charac- 
ters of  some  new  novel,  all  sorts  of  things  about  the  condi- 
tions of  life,  and  touches  upon  a thousand  questions  which 
could  not  be  touched  upon  anywhere  else,  makes  the  soul 
of  a Russian  review.  They  had  a critic,  and  we  had  none  ! 
He  wrote  an  article  for  the  first  number,  and  his  article 
was  shown  to  my  brother.  It  was  rather  pretentious  and 
weak.  Alexander  at  once  wrote  an  anti-criticism,  ridiculing 
and  demolishing  the  critic  in  a violent  manner.  There  was 
great  consternation  in  the  rival  camp  when  they  learned 
that  this  anti-criticism  would  appear  in  our  next  issue  ; they 
gave  up  publishing  their  paper,  their  best  writers  joined 
our  staff,  and  we  triumphantly  announced  the  future  “ ex* 
tlusive  collaboration  ” of  so  many  distinguished  writers. 


70 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


In  August,  1857,  the  review  had  to  be  suspended,  after 
nearly  two  years’  existence.  New  surroundings  and  a quite 
new  life  were  before  me.  I went  away  from  home  with 
regret,  the  more  so  because  the  whole  distance  between 
Moscow  and  St.  Petersburg  would  be  between  me  and 
Alexander,  and  I already  considered  it  a misfortune  that  I 
had  to  enter  a military  school. 


PART  SECOND 
THE  CORPS  OF  PAGES 
I 

The  long-cherished  ambition  of  my  father  was  thus  real- 
ized. There  was  a vacancy  in  the  corps  of  pages  which  I 
could  fill  before  I had  got  beyond  the  age  to  which  admis- 
sion was  limited,  and  I was  taken  to  St.  Petersburg  and 
entered  the  school.  Only  a hundred  and  fifty  boys  — mostly 
children  of  the  nobility  belonging  to  the  court  — received 
education  in  this  privileged  corps,  which  combined  the 
character  of  a military  school  endowed  with  special  rights 
and  of  a court  institution  attached  to  the  imperial  house- 
hold. After  a stay  of  four  or  five  years  in  the  corps  of 
pages,  those  who  had  passed  the  final  examinations  were 
received  as  officers  in  any  regiment  of  the  guard  or  of  the 
army  they  chose,  irrespective  of  the  number  of  vacancies  in 
that  regiment;  and  each  year  the  first  sixteen  pupils  of  the 
highest  form  were  nominated  pages  de  chambre  ; that  is, 
they  were  personally  attached  to  the  several  members  of  the 
imperial  family, — the  emperor,  the  empress,  the  grand 
duchesses,  and  the  grand  dukes.  That  was  considered,  of 
course,  a great  honor ; and,  moreover,  the  young  men  upon 
whom  this  honor  was  bestowed  became  known  at  the  court, 
and  had  afterward  every  chance  of  being  nominated  aides- 
de-camp  of  the  emperor  or  of  one  of  the  grand  dukes,  and 
consequently  had  every  facility  for  making  a brilliant  career 
in  the  service  of  the  state.  Fathers  and  mothers  of  families 
connected  with  the  court  took  due  care,  therefore,  that  their 
boys  should  not  miss  entering  the  corps  of  pages,  even 


72 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


though  entrance  had  to  be  secured  at  the  expense  of  othet 
candidates  who  never  saw  a vacancy  opening  for  them.  Now 
that  I was  in  the  select  corps  my  father  could  give  free 
play  to  his  ambitious  dreams. 

The  corps  was  divided  into  five  forms,  of  which  the 
highest  was  the  first,  and  the  lowest  the  fifth,  and  the  inten- 
tion was  that  I should  enter  the  fourth  form.  However,  as 
it  appeared  at  the  examinations  that  I was  not  sufficiently 
familiar  with  decimal  fractions,  and  as  the  fourth  form 
contained  that  year  over  forty  pupils,  while  only  twenty 
had  been  mustered  for  the  fifth  form,  I was  enrolled  in  the 
latter. 

I felt  extremely  vexed  at  this  decision.  It  was  with  re- 
luctance that  I entered  a military  school,  and  now  I should 
have  to  stay  in  it  five  years  instead  of  four.  What  should 
I do  in  the  fifth  form,  when  I knew  already  all  that  would 
be  taught  in  it  ? With  tears  in  my  eyes  I spoke  of  it  to 
the  inspector  (the  head  of  the  educational  department),  but 
he  answered  me  with  a joke.  “ You  know,”  he  remarked, 
“ what  Caesar  said,  — better  to  be  the  first  in  a village  than 
the  second  in  Rome.”  To  which  I warmly  replied  that  I 
should  prefer  to  be  the  very  last,  if  only  I could  leave  the 
military  school  as  soon  as  possible.  “ Perhaps,  after  some 
time,  you  will  like  the  school,”  he  remarked,  and  from  that 
day  he  became  friendly  to  me. 

To  the  teacher  of  arithmetic,  who  also  tried  to  console 
me,  I gave  my  word  of  honor  that  I would  never  cast  a 
glance  into  his  textbook ; “ and  nevertheless  you  will  have 
to  give  me  the  highest  marks.”  I kept  my  word ; but 
thinking  now  of  this  scene,  I fancy  that  the  pupil  was  not 
of  a very  docile  disposition. 

And  yet,  as  I look  back  upon  that  remote  past,  I cannot 
but  feel  grateful  for  having  been  put  in  the  lower  form. 
Having  only  to  repeat  during  the  first  year  what  I already 
knew,  I got  into  the  habit  of  learning  my  lessons  by  merely 


THE  CORPS  OF  PAGES 


73 


listening  to  what  the  teachers  said  in  the  class-room ; and, 
the  lessons  over,  I had  plenty  of  time  to  read  and  to  write 
to  my  heart’s  content.  I never  prepared  for  the  examina- 
tions, and  used  to  spend  the  time  which  was  allowed  for 
that  in  reading  aloud,  to  a few  friends,  dramas  of  Shake- 
speare or  of  Ostrdvsky.  When  I reached  the  higher  “ special  ” 
forms,  I was  also  better  prepared  to  master  the  variety  of 
subjects  we  had  to  study.  Besides,  I spent  more  than  half 
of  the  first  winter  in  the  hospital.  Like  all  children  who 
are  not  born  at  St.  Petersburg,  I had  to  pay  a heavy  tribute 
to  “ the  capital  on  the  swamps  of  Finland,”  in  the  shape  of 
several  attacks  of  local  cholera,  and  finally  one  of  typhoid 
fever. 

When  I entered  the  corps  of  pages,  its  inner  life  was 
undergoing  a profound  change.  All  Russia  awakened  at 
that  time  from  the  heavy  slumber  and  the  terrible  night- 
mare of  Nicholas  I.’s  reign.  Our  school  also  felt  the  effects 
of  that  revival.  I do  not  know,  in  fact,  what  would  have 
become  of  me,  had  I entered  the  corps  of  pages  one  or  two 
years  sooner.  Either  my  will  would  have  been  totally 
broken,  or  I should  have  been  excluded  from  the  school 
with  no  one  knows  what  consequences.  Happily,  the  tran- 
sition period  was  already  in  full  sway  in  the  year  1857. 

The  director  of  the  corps  was  an  excellent  old  man,  Gen- 
eral Zheltukhin.  But  he  was  the  nominal  head  only.  The 
real  master  of  the  school  was  “ the  Colonel,”  — Colonel 
Girardot,  a Frenchman  in  the  Russian  service.  People  said 
he  was  a Jesuit,  and  so  he  was,  I believe.  His  ways,  at 
any  rate,  were  thoroughly  imbued  with  the  teachings  of 
Loyola,  and  his  educational  methods  were  those  of  the 
French  Jesuit  colleges. 

Imagine  a short,  extremely  thin  man,  with  dark,  piercing, 
and  furtive  eyes,  wearing  short  clipped  mustaches,  which 
gave  him  the  expression  of  a cat ; very  quiet  and  firm  j not 


74 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


remarkably  intelligent,  but  exceedingly  cunning;  a despot 
at  the  bottom  of  his  heart,  who  was  capable  of  hating  — 
intensely  hating  — the  boy  who  would  not  fall  under  his 
fascination,  and  of  expressing  that  hatred,  not  by  silly  per- 
secutions, but  unceasingly,  by  his  general  behavior, — by 
an  occasionally  dropped  word,  a gesture,  a smile,  an  inter- 
jection. His  walk  was  more  like  gliding  along,  and  the 
exploring  glances  he  used  to  cast  round  without  turning  his 
head  completed  the  illusion.  A stamp  of  cold  dryness  was 
impressed  on  his  lips,  even  when  he  tried  to  look  well  dis- 
posed, and  that  expression  became  still  more  harsh  when 
his  mouth  was  contorted  by  a smile  of  discontent  or  of  con- 
tempt. With  all  this  there  was  nothing  of  a commander  in 
him ; you  would  rather  think,  at  first  sight,  of  a benevolent 
father  who  talks  to  his  children  as  if  they  were  full-grown 
people.  And  yet,  you  soon  felt  that  every  one  and  every- 
thing had  to  bend  before  his  will.  Woe  to  the  boy  who 
would  not  feel  happy  or  unhappy  according  to  the  degree  of 
good  disposition  shown  toward  him  by  the  Colonel. 

The  words  “ the  Colonel  ” were  continually  on  all  lips. 
Other  officers  went  by  their  nicknames,  but  no  one  dared 
to  give  a nickname  to  Girardot.  A sort  of  mystery  hung 
about  him,  as  if  he  were  omniscient  and  everywhere  present. 
True,  he  spent  all  the  day  and  part  of  the  night  in  the 
school.  Even  when  we  were  in  the  classes  he  prowled 
about,  visiting  our  drawers,  which  he  opened  with  his  own 
keys.  As  to  the  night,  he  gave  a good  portion  of  it  to  the 
task  of  inscribing  in  small  books,  — of  which  he  had  quite 
a library,  — in  separate  columns,  by  special  signs  and  in 
inks  of  different  colors,  all  the  faults  and  virtues  of  each 
boy. 

Play,  jokes,  and  conversation  stopped  when  we  saw 
him  slowly  moving  along  through  our  spacious  rooms,  hand 
in  hand  with  one  of  his  favorites,  balancing  his  body  for- 
ward and  backward;  smiling  at  one  boy,  keenly  looking 


INNER  LIFE  OF  THE  CORPS  OF  PAGES 


75 


into  the  eyes  of  another,  casting  an  indifferent  glance  upon 
a third,  and  giving  a slight  contortion  to  his  lip  as  he 
passed  a fourth : and  from  these  looks  every  one  knew  that 
he  liked  the  first  boy,  that  to  the  second  he  was  indifferent, 
that  he  intentionally  did  not  notice  the  third,  and  that  he 
disliked  the  fourth.  This  dislike  was  enough  to  terrify 
most  of  his  victims, — the  more  so  as  no  reason  could  be 
given  for  it.  Impressionable  boys  had  been  brought  to 
despair  by  that  mute,  unceasingly  displayed  aversion  and 
those  suspicious  looks;  in  others  the  result  had  been  a 
total  annihilation  of  will,  as  one  of  the  Tolstois  — Theo- 
dor, also  a pupil  of  Girardot  — has  shown  in  an  autobio- 
graphic novel,  “ The  Diseases  of  the  Will.” 

The  inner  life  of  the  corps  was  miserable  under  the  rule 
of  the  Colonel.  In  all  boarding-schools  the  newly  entered 
boys  are  subjected  to  petty  persecutions.  The  “ green- 
horns” are  put  in  this  way  to  a test.  What  are  they 
worth  ? Are  they  not  going  to  turn  (C  sneaks  ” ? And 
then  the  “ old  hands  ” like  to  show  to  newcomers  the 
superiority  of  an  established  brotherhood.  So  it  is  in  all 
schools  and  in  prisons.  But  under  Girardot’s  rule  these 
persecutions  took  on  a harsher  aspect,  and  they  came,  not 
from  the  comrades  of  the  same  form,  but  from  the  first 
form,  — the  pages  de  chambre,  who  were  non-commissoned 
officers,  and  whom  Girardot  had  placed  in  a quite  ex- 
ceptional, superior  position.  His  system  was  to  give  them 
carte  blanche ; to  pretend  that  he  did  not  know  even  the 
horrors  they  were  enacting ; and  to  maintain  through  them 
a severe  discipline.  To  answer  a blow  received  from  a page 
de  chambre  would  have  meant,  in  the  times  of  Nicholas  I., 
to  be  sent  to  a battalion  of  soldiers’  sons,  if  the  fact  be- 
came public ; and  to  revolt  in  any  way  against  the  mere 
caprice  of  a page  de  chambre  meant  that  the  twenty  youths 
of  the  first  form,  armed  with  their  heavy  oak  rulers,  would 


76 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


assemble  in  a room,  and,  with  Girardot’s  tacit  approval, 
administer  a severe  beating  to  the  boy  who  had  shown  such 
a spirit  of  insubordination. 

Accordingly,  the  first  form  did  what  they  liked;  and 
not  further  back  than  the  preceding  winter  one  of  their 
favorite  games  had  been  to  assemble  the  “ greenhorns  ” at 
night  in  a room,  in  their  night-shirts,  and  to  make  them 
run  round,  like  horses  in  a circus,  while  the  pages  de 
chambre,  armed  with  thick  india-rubber  whips,  standing 
some  in  the  centre  and  the  others  on  the  outside,  pitilessly 
whipped  the  boys.  As  a rule  the  “ circus  ” ended  in  an 
Oriental  fashion,  in  an  abominable  way.  The  moral  con- 
ceptions which  prevailed  at  that  time,  and  the  foul  talk 
which  went  on  in  the  school  concerning  what  occurred  at 
night  after  circus,  were  such  that  the  least  said  about 
them  the  better. 

The  Colonel  knew  all  this.  He  had  a perfectly  organized 
system  of  espionage,  and  nothing  escaped  his  knowledge. 
But  so  long  as  he  was  not  known  to  know  it,  all  was 
right.  To  shut  his  eyes  to  what  was  done  by  the  first 
form  was  the  foundation  of  his  system  of  maintaining 
discipline. 

However,  a new  spirit  was  awakened  in  the  school,  and 
only  a few  months  before  I entered  it  a revolution  had 
taken  place.  That  year  the  third  form  was  different  from 
what  it  had  hitherto  been.  It  contained  a number  of 
young  men  who  really  studied  and  read  a good  deal ; 
some  of  them  became,  later,  men  of  mark.  My  first  ac- 
quaintance with  one  of  them  — let  me  call  him  von 
Schauff  — was  when  he  was  reading  Kant’s  “ Critique  of 
Pure  Reason.”  Besides,  they  had  amongst  them  some  of 
the  strongest  youths  of  the  school.  The  tallest  member 
of  the  corps  was  in  that  form,  as  also  a very  strong  young 
man,  Kdshtofif,  a great  friend  of  von  Schauff.  The  third 
form  did  not  bear  the  yoke  of  the  pages  de  chambre  with 


TYRANNY  OF  THE  PAGES  DE  CHAMBRE 


77 


the  same  docility  as  their  predecessors ; they  were  disgusted 
with  what  was  going  on ; and  in  consequence  of  an  incident, 
which  I prefer  not  to  describe,  a fight  took  place  between 
the  third  and  the  first  form,  with  the  result  that  the  pages 
de  chambre  got  a very  severe  thrashing  from  their  subor- 
dinates. Girardot  hushed  up  the  affair,  but  the  authority 
of  the  first  form  was  broken  down.  The  india-rubber 
whips  remained,  but  were  never  again  brought  into  use. 
The  circuses  and  the  like  became  things  of  the  past. 

That  much  was  won ; but  the  lowest  form,  the  fifth, 
composed  almost  entirely  of  very  young  boys  who  had  just 
entered  the  school,  had  still  to  obey  the  petty  caprices  of 
the  pages  de  chambre.  We  had  a beautiful  garden,  filled 
with  old  trees,  but  the  boys  of  the  fifth  form  could  enjoy  it 
little : they  were  forced  to  run  a roundabout,  while  the 
pages  de  chambre  sat  in  it  and  chattered,  or  to  send  back 
the  balls  when  these  gentlemen  played  ninepins.  A couple 
of  days  after  I had  entered  the  school,  seeing  how  things 
stood  in  the  garden,  I did  not  go  there,  but  remained 
upstairs.  I was  reading,  when  a page  de  chambre,  with 
carroty  hair  and  a face  covered  with  freckles,  came  upon 
me,  and  ordered  me  to  go  at  once  to  the  garden  to  run 
the  roundabout. 

“ I shan’t ; don’t  you  see  I am  reading  ? ” was  my 
reply. 

Anger  disfigured  his  never  too  pleasant  face.  He  was 
ready  to  jump  upon  me.  I took  the  defensive.  He  tried 
to  give  me  blows  on  the  face  with  his  cap.  I fenced  as 
best  I could.  Then  he  flung  his  cap  on  the  floor. 

“ Pick  it  up.” 

“ Pick  it  up  yourself.” 

Such  an  act  of  disobedience  was  unheard  of  in  the  school. 
Why  he  did  not  beat  me  unmercifully  on  the  spot  I do  not 
know.  He  was  much  older  and  stronger  than  I was. 

Next  day  and  the  following  days  I received  similar 


78 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


commands,  but  obstinately  remained  upstairs.  Then  began 
the  most  exasperating  petty  persecutions  at  every  step, 
— enough  to  drive  a boy  to  desperation.  Happily,  I was 
always  of  a jovial  disposition,  and  answered  them  with 
jokes,  or  took  little  heed  of  them. 

Moreover,  it  all  soon  came  to  an  end.  The  weather 
turned  rainy,  and  we  spent  most  of  our  time  indoors.  In 
the  garden  the  first  form  smoked  freely  enough,  but  when 
we  were  indoors  the  smoking  club  was  “ the  tower.”  It 
was  kept  beautifully  clean,  and  a fire  was  always  burning 
there.  The  pages  de  chambre  severely  punished  any  of 
the  other  boys  whom  they  caught  smoking,  but  they 
themselves  sat  continually  at  the  fireside  chattering  and 
enjoying  cigarettes.  Their  favorite  smoking  time  was  after 
ten  o’clock  at  night,  when  all  were  supposed  to  have  gone 
to  bed ; they  kept  up  their  club  till  half  past  eleven,  and, 
to  protect  themselves  from  an  unexpected  interruption  by 
Girardot,  they  ordered  us  to  be  on  the  watch.  The  small 
boys  of  the  fifth  form  were  taken  out  of  their  beds  in 
turn,  two  at  a time,  and  they  had  to  loiter  about  the 
staircase  till  half  past  eleven,  to  give  notice  of  the  approach 
of  the  Colonel. 

We  decided  to  put  an  end  to  these  night  watches.  Long 
were  the  discussions,  and  the  higher  forms  were  consulted 
as  to  what  was  to  be  done.  At  last  the  decision  came : 
“ Refuse,  all  of  you,  to  keep  the  watch ; and  when  they 
begin  to  beat  you,  which  they  are  sure  to  do,  go,  as  many 
of  you  as  can,  in  a block,  and  call  in  Girardot.  He  knows 
it  all,  but  then  he  will  be  bound  to  stop  it.”  The  question 
whether  that  would  not  be  “ reporting  ” was  settled  in  the 
negative  by  experts  in  matters  of  honor : the  pages  de 
chambre  did  not  behave  toward  the  others  like  comrades. 

The  turn  to  watch  fell  that  night  to  a Shahovskdy,  an  old 
hand,  and  to  Selanoff,  a newcomer,  an  extremely  timid  boy, 
tvho  even  spoke  in  a girlish  voice.  Shahovskdy  was  called 


TYRANNY  OF  THE  PAGES  DE  CHAMBRE 


79 


upon  first,  but  refused  to  go,  and  was  left  alone.  Then  two 
pages  de  chambre  went  to  the  timid  Selanoff,  who  was  in 
bed ; as  he  refused  to  obey,  they  began  to  flog  him  brutally 
with  heavy  leather  braces.  Shahovskdy  woke  up  several 
comrades  who  were  near  at  hand,  and  they  all  ran  to  find 
Girardot. 

I was  also  in  bed  when  the  two  came  upon  me,  ordering 
me  to  take  the  watch.  I refused.  Thereupon,  seizing  two 
pairs  of  braces,  — we  always  used  to  put  our  clothes  in  per- 
fect order  on  a bench  by  the  bedside,  braces  uppermost,  and 
the  necktie  across  them,  — they  began  to  flog  me.  Sitting 
up  in  bed,  I fenced  with  my  hands,  and  had  already  received 
several  heavy  blows,  when  a command  resounded,  — “ The 
first  form  to  the  Colonel ! ” The  fierce  fighters  became 
tame  at  once,  and  hurriedly  put  my  things  in  order. 

“ Don’t  say  a word,”  they  whispered. 

“ The  necktie  across,  in  good  order,”  I said  to  them, 
while  my  shoulders  and  arms  burned  from  the  blows. 

What  Girardot’s  talk  with  the  first  form  was  we  did  not 
know ; but  next  day,  as  we  stood  in  the  ranks  before  march- 
ing downstairs  to  the  dining-room,  he  addressed  us  in  a 
minor  key,  saying  how  sad  it  was  that  pages  de  chambre 
should  have  fallen  upon  a boy  who  was  right  in  his  refu- 
sal. And  upon  whom  ? A newcomer,  and  so  timid  a boy 
as  Selanoff  was.  The  whole  school  was  disgusted  at  this 
Jesuitic  speech. 

No  need  to  say  that  that  was  the  end  of  the  watch-keep- 
Jng,  and  that  it  gave  a final  blow  to  the  worrying  of  the 
newcomers : it  has  never  been  renewed. 

It  surely  was  also  a blow  to  Girardot’s  authority,  and  he 
resented  it  very  much.  He  regarded  our  form,  and  me 
especially,  with  great  dislike  (the  roundabout  affair  had 
been  reported  to  him),  and  he  manifested  it  at  every  oppor- 
tunity. 


80 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


During  the  first  winter,  I was  a frequent  inmate  of  the 
hospital.  After  suffering  from  typhoid  fever,  during  which 
the  director  and  the  doctor  bestowed  on  me  a really  paren- 
tal care,  I had  very  had  and  persistently  recurring  gastric 
attacks.  Girardot,  as  he  made  his  daily  rounds  of  the  hos- 
pital, seeing  me  so  often  there,  began  to  say  to  me  every 
morning,  half  jokingly,  in  French,  “Here  is  a young  man 
who  is  as  healthy  as  the  New  Bridge,  and  loiters  in  the 
hospital.”  Once  or  twice  I replied  jestingly,  but  at  last, 
seeing  malice  in  this  constant  repetition,  I lost  patience  and 
grew  very  angry. 

“ How  dare  you  say  that  ? ” I exclaimed.  “ I shall 
ask  the  doctor  to  forbid  your  entering  this  room,”  and 
so  on. 

Girardot  recoiled  two  steps ; his  dark  eyes  glittered,  his  thin 
lip  became  still  thinner.  At  last  he  said,  “ I have  offended 
you,  have  I ? Well,  we  have  in  the  hall  two  artillery  guns  : 
shall  we  have  a duel  ? ” 

“ I don’t  make  jokes,  and  I tell  you  that  I shall  bear  no 
more  of  your  insinuations,”  I continued. 

He  did  not  repeat  his  joke,  but  regarded  me  with  even 
more  dislike  than  before. 

Every  one  spoke  of  Girardot’s  dislike  for  me  ; but  I paid 
no  attention  to  it,  and  probably  increased  it  by  my  indiffer- 
ence. For  full  eighteen  months  he  refused  to  give  me  the 
epaulets,  which  were  usually  given  to  newly  entered  boys 
after  one  or  two  months’  stay  at  the  school,  when  they  had 
learned  some  of  the  rudiments  of  military  drill ; but  I felt 
quite  happy  without  that  military  decoration.  At  last,  an 
officer  — the  best  teacher  of  drill  in  the  school,  a man 
simply  enamored  of  drill  — volunteered  to  teach  me;  and 
when  he  saw  me  performing  all  the  tricks  to  his  entire  sat- 
isfaction, he  undertook  to  introduce  me  to  Girardot.  The 
Colonel  refused  again,  twice  in  succession,  so  that  the  officer 
took  it  as  a personal  offense ; and  when  the  director  of  the 


COLONEL  GIRARDOT 


81 


corps  once  asked  him  why  I had  no  epaulets  yet,  he  bluntly 
answered,  “ The  boy  is  all  right ; it  is  the  Colonel  who 
does  not  want  him  ; ” whereupon,  probably  after  a remark 
of  the  director,  Girardot  himself  asked  to  examine  me 
again,  and  gave  me  the  epaulets  that  very  day. 

But  the  Colonel’s  influence  was  rapidly  vanishing.  The 
whole  character  of  the  school  was  changing.  For  twenty 
years  Girardot  had  realized  his  ideal,  which  was  to  have 
the  boys  nicely  combed,  curled,  and  girlish  looking,  and  to 
send  to  the  court  pages  as  refined  as  courtiers  of  Louis 
XIV.  Whether  they  learned  or  not,  he  cared  little;  his 
favorites  were  those  whose  clothes-baskets  were  best  filled 
with  all  sorts  of  nail-brushes  and  scent  bottles,  whose 
“ private  ” uniform  (which  could  be  put  on  when  we  went 
home  on  Sundays')  was  of  the  best  make,  and  who  knew 
how  to  make  the  most  elegant  salut  oblique.  Formerly, 
when  Girardot  had  held  rehearsals  of  court  ceremonies,  wrap- 
ping up  a page  in  a striped  red  cotton  cover  taken  from 
one  of  our  beds,  in  order  that  he  might  represent  the  Em- 
press at  a baisemain,  the  boys  almost  religiously  approached 
the  imaginary  Empress,  seriously  performed  the  ceremony 
of  kissing  the  hand,  and  retired  with  a most  elegant  oblique 
bow ; but  now,  though  they  were  very  elegant  at  court, 
they  would  perform  at  the  rehearsals  such  bearlike  bows  that 
all  roared  with  laughter,  while  Girardot  was  simply  raging. 
Formerly,  the  younger  boys  who  had  been  taken  to  a court 
levee,  and  had  been  curled  for  that  purpose,  used  to  keep 
their  curls  as  long  as  they  would  last ; now,  on  returning 
from  the  palace,  they  hurried  to  put  their  heads  under  the 
cold-water  tap,  to  get  rid  of  the  curls.  An  effeminate  ap- 
pearance was  laughed  at.  To  be  sent  to  a levee,  to  stand 
there  as  a decoration,  was  now  considered  a drudgery  rather 
than  a favor.  And  when  the  small  boys  who  were  occa- 
sionally taken  to  the  palace  to  play  with  the  little  grand 
dukes  remarked  that  one  of  the  latter  used,  in  some  game, 


82 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


to  make  a hard  whip  out  of  his  handkerchief,  and  use  it 
freely,  one  of  our  boys  did  the  same,  and  so  whipped  the 
grand  duke  that  he  cried.  Girardot  was  terrified,  while  the 
old  Sebastopol  admiral  who  was  tutor  of  the  grand  duke 
only  praised  our  boy. 

A new  spirit,  studious  and  serious,  developed  in  the  corps, 
as  in  all  other  schools.  In  former  years,  the  pages,  being 
sure  that  in  one  way  or  another  they  would  get  the  neces- 
sary marks  for  being  promoted  officers  of  the  guard,  spent 
the  first  years  in  the  school  hardly  learning  at  all,  and  only 
began  to  study  more  or  less  in  the  last  two  forms ; now  the 
lower  forms  learned  very  well.  The  moral  tone  also  be- 
came quite  different  from  what  it  was  a few  years  before. 
Oriental  amusements  were  looked  upon  with  disgust,  and  an 
attempt  or  two  to  revert  to  old  manners  resulted  in  scandals 
which  reached  the  St.  Petersburg  drawing-rooms.  Girardot 
was  dismissed.  He  was  only  allowed  to  retain  his  bachelor 
apartment  in  the  building  of  the  corps,  and  we  often  saw 
him  afterward,  wrapped  in  his  long  military  cloak,  pacing 
along,  plunged  in  reflections,  — sad,  I suppose,  because  he 
could  not  but  condemn  the  new  spirit  which  rapidly  d&> 
veloped  in  the  corps  of  pages. 


n 


All  over  Russia  people  were  talking  of  education.  As 
soon  as  peace  had  been  concluded  at  Paris,  and  the  severity 
of  censorship  had  been  slightly  relaxed,  educational  matters 
began  to  be  eagerly  discussed.  The  ignorance  of  the  masses 
of  the  people,  the  obstacles  that  had  hitherto  been  put  in 
the  way  of  those  who  wanted  to  learn,  the  absence  of  schools 
in  the  country,  the  obsolete  methods  of  teaching,  and  the 
remedies  for  these  evils  became  favorite  themes  of  discus- 
sion in  educated  circles,  in  the  press,  and  even  in  the  draw- 
ing-rooms of  the  aristocracy.  The  first  high  schools  for 
girls  had  been  opened  in  1857,  on  an  excellent  plan  and 
with  a splendid  teaching  staff.  As  by  magic  a number  of 
men  and  women  came  to  the  front,  who  have  not  only 
devoted  their  lives  to  education,  hut  have  proved  to  be  re- 
markable practical  pedagogists  : their  writings  would  occupy 
a place  of  honor  in  every  civilized  literature,  if  they  were 
known  abroad. 

The  corps  of  pages  also  felt  the  effect  of  that  revival. 
Apart  from  a few  exceptions,  the  general  tendency  of  the 
three  younger  forms  was  to  study.  The  head  of  the  edu- 
cational department,  the  inspector,  Winkler,  who  was  a well- 
educated  colonel  of  artillery,  a good  mathematician,  and  a 
man  of  progressive  opinions,  hit  upon  an  excellent  plan  for 
stimulating  that  spirit.  Instead  of  the  indifferent  teachers 
who  formerly  used  to  teach  in  the  lower  forms,  he  endeav- 
ored to  secure  the  best  ones.  In  his  opinion,  no  professor 
was  too  good  to  teach  the  very  beginnings  of  a subject  to 
the  youngest  boys.  Thus,  to  teach  the  elements  of  algebra 
in  the  fourth  form  he  invited  a first-rate  mathematician  and 


84 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


a born  teacher,  Captain  Sukhdnin,  and  the  form  took  at 
once  to  mathematics.  By  the  way,  it  so  happened  that  this 
captain  was  a tutor  of  the  heir  of  the  throne  (Kikolai  Alex* 
androvich,  who  died  at  the  age  of  twenty-two),  and  the  heir 
apparent  was  brought  once  a week  to  the  corps  of  pages  to 
be  present  at  the  algebra  lessons  of  Captain  Sukhdnin. 
Empress  Marie  Alexandrovna,  who  was  an  educated  woman, 
thought  that  perhaps  the  contact  with  studious  boys  would 
stimulate  her  son  to  learning.  He  sat  amongst  us,  and  had 
to  answer  questions  like  all  the  others.  But  he  managed 
mostly,  while  the  teacher  spoke,  to  make  drawings  very 
nicely,  or  to  whisper  all  sorts  of  droll  things  to  his  neigh- 
bors. He  was  good-natured  and  very  gentle  in  his  behavior, 
but  superficial  in  learning,  and  still  more  so  in  his  affections. 

For  the  fifth  form  the  inspector  secured  two  remarkable 
men.  He  entered  our  class-room  one  day,  quite  radiant, 
and  told  us  that  we  should  have  a rare  chance.  Professor 
Klasdvsky,  a great  classical  scholar  and  expert  in  Russian 
literature,  had  consented  to  teach  us  Russian  grammar,  and 
would  take  us  through  all  the  five  forms  in  succession, 
shifting  with  us  every  year  to  the  next  form.  Another 
university  professor,  Herr  Becker,  librarian  of  the  imperial 
(national)  library,  would  do  the  same  in  German.  Professor 
Klasdvsky,  he  added,  was  in  weak  health  that  winter,  but 
the  inspector  was  sure  that  we  would  be  very  quiet  in  his 
class.  The  chance  of  having  such  a teacher  was  too  good 
to  be  lost. 

He  had  thought  aright.  We  became  very  proud  of 
having  university  professors  for  teachers,  and  although 
there  came  voices  from  the  Kamchatka  (in  Russia,  the  back 
benches  of  each  class  bear  the  name  of  that  remote  and 
uncivilized  peninsula)  to  the  effect  that  “the  sausage- 
maker  ” — that  is,  the  German  — must  be  kept  by  all  means 
in  obedience,  public  opinion  in  our  form  was  decidedly  in 
favor  of  the  professors. 


STUDYING  GERMAN 


85 


“ The  sausage-maker  ” won  our  respect  at  once.  A tall 
man,  with  an  immense  forehead  and  very  kind,  intelligent 
eyes,  not  devoid  of  a touch  of  humor,  came  into  our  class, 
and  told  us  in  quite  good  Eussian  that  he  intended  to 
divide  our  form  into  three  sections.  The  first  section 
would  be  composed  of  Germans,  who  already  knew  the 
language,  and  from  whom  he  would  require  more  serious 
work ; to  the  second  section  he  would  teach  grammar,  and 
later  on  German  literature,  in  accordance  with  the  estab- 
lished programmes ; and  the  third  section,  he  concluded 
with  a charming  smile,  would  be  the  Kamchatka.  “ From 
you,”  he  said,  “ I shall  only  require  that  at  each  lesson  you 
copy  four  lines  which  I will  choose  for  you  from  a book. 
The  four  lines  copied,  you  can  do  what  you  like ; only  do 
not  hinder  the  rest.  And  I promise  you  that  in  five  years 
you  will  learn  something  of  German  and  German  literature. 
Now,  who  joins  the  Germans  ? You,  Stackelberg  ? You, 
Lamsdorf  ? Perhaps  some  one  of  the  Eussians  ? And  who 
joins  the  Kamchatka  ? ” Five  or  six  boys,  who  knew  not 
a word  of  German,  took  residence  in  the  peninsula.  They 
most  conscientiously  copied  their  four  lines,  — a dozen  or  a 
score  of  lines  in  the  higher  forms,  — and  Becker  chose  the 
lines  so  well,  and  bestowed  so  much  attention  upon  the  boys, 
that  by  the  end  of  the  five  years  they  really  knew  something 
of  the  language  and  its  literature. 

I joined  the  Germans.  My  brother  Alexander  insisted 
so  much  in  his  letters  upon  my  acquiring  German,  which 
possesses  so  rich  a literature  and  into  which  every  book  of 
value  is  translated,  that  I set  myself  assiduously  to  learn  it. 
I translated  and  studied  most  thoroughly  one  page  of  a 
rather  difficult  poetical  description  of  a thunderstorm ; I 
learned  by  heart,  as  the  professor  had  advised  me,  the  con- 
jugations, the  adverbs,  and  the  prepositions,  and  began  to 
read.  A splendid  method  it  is  for  learning  languages. 
Becker  advised  me,  moreover,  to  subscribe  to  a cheap  illus* 


86 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


trated  weekly,  and  its  illustrations  and  short  stories  were  a 
continual  inducement  to  read  a few  lines  or  a column.  I 
soon  mastered  the  language. 

Toward  the  end  of  the  winter  I asked  Herr  Becker  to 
lend  me  a copy  of  Goethe’s  “ Faust.”  I had  read  it  in  a 
Russian  translation ; I had  also  read  Turgudneffs  beautiful 
novel,  “ Faust ; ” and  I now  longed  to  read  the  great  work 
in  the  original.  “ You  will  understand  nothing  in  it ; it  is 
too  philosophical,”  Becker  said,  with  his  gentle  smile ; but 
he  brought  me,  nevertheless,  a little  square  book,  with  the 
pages  yellowed  by  age,  containing  the  immortal  drama.  He 
little  knew  the  unfathomable  joy  that  that  small  square 
book  gave  me.  I drank  in  the  sense  and  the  music  of 
every  line  of  it,  beginning  with  the  very  first  verses  of  the 
ideally  beautiful  dedication,  and  soon  knew  full  pages  by 
heart.  Faust’s  monologue  in  the  forest,  and  especially  the 
lines  in  which  he  speaks  of  his  understanding  of  nature,  — 

“ Thou 

Not  only  cold,  amazed  acquaintance  yield’st, 

But  grantest  that  in  her  profoundest  breast 
I gaze,  as  in  the  bosom  of  a friend,”  — 

simply  put  me  in  ecstasy,  and  till  now  it  has  retained  its 
power  over  me.  Every  verse  gradually  became  a dear 
friend.  And  then,  is  there  a higher  aesthetic  delight  than 
to  read  poetry  in  a language  which  one  does  not  yet  quite 
thoroughly  understand  ? The  whole  is  veiled  with  a sort 
of  slight  haze,  which  admirably  suits  poetry.  Words,  the 
trivial  meanings  of  which,  when  one  knows  the  language 
colloquially,  sometimes  interfere  with  the  poetical  image 
they  are  intended  to  convey,  retain  but  their  subtle, 
elevated  sense ; while  the  music  of  the  poetry  is  only  the 
more  strongly  impressed  upon  the  ear. 

Professor  Klasdvsky’s  first  lesson  was  a revelation  to  us. 
He  was  a small  man,  about  fifty  years  of  age,  very  rapid  in 


PROFESSOR  KLASOVSKY 


87 


his  movements,  with  bright,  intelligent  eyes  and  a slightly 
sarcastic  expression,  and  the  high  forehead  of  a poet. 
When  he  came  in  for  his  first  lesson,  he  said  in  a low  voice 
that,  suffering  from  a protracted  illness,  he  could  not  speak 
loud  enough,  and  asked  us,  therefore,  to  sit  closer  to  him. 
He  placed  his  chair  near  the  first  row  of  tables,  and  we 
clustered  round  him  like  a swarm  of  bees. 

He  was  to  teach  us  Russian  grammar ; but,  instead  of 
the  dull  grammar  lesson,  we  heard  something  quite  different 
from  what  we  expected.  It  was  grammar  ; but  here  came 
in  a comparison  of  an  old  Russian  folk-lore  expression  with 
a line  from  Homer  or  from  the  Sanskrit  Mahabharata,  the 
beauty  of  which  was  rendered  in  Russian  words ; there, 
a verse  from  Schiller  was  introduced,  and  was  followed  by 
a sarcastic  remark  about  some  modern  society  prejudice; 
then  solid  grammar  again,  and  then  some  wide  poetical  or 
philosophical  generalization. 

Of  course,  there  was  much  in  it  that  we  did  not  under- 
stand, or  of  which  we  missed  the  deeper  sense.  But  do 
not  the  bewitching  powers  of  all  studies  lie  in  that  they 
continually  open  up  to  us  new,  unsuspected  horizons,  not 
yet  understood,  which  entice  us  to  proceed  further  and  fur- 
ther in  the  penetration  of  what  appears  at  first  sight  only 
in  vague  outline  ? Some  with  their  hands  placed  on  one 
another’s  shoulders,  some  leaning  across  the  tables  of  the 
first  row,  others  standing  close  behind  Klasdvsky,  our  eyes 
glittering,  we  all  hung  on  his  lips.  As  toward  the  end  of 
the  hour,  his  voice  fell,  the  more  breathlessly  we  listened. 
The  inspector  opened  the  door  of  the  class-room,  to  see  how 
we  behaved  with  our  new  teacher;  but  on  seeing  that 
motionless  swarm  he  retired  on  tiptoe.  Even  Dauroff,  a 
restless  spirit,  stared  at  Klasdvsky  as  if  to  say,  “ That  is 
the  sort  of  man  you  are  ? ” Even  von  Kleinau,  a hope- 
lessly obtuse  Circassian  with  a German  name,  sat  motion- 
less. In  most  of  the  others  something  good  and  elevated 


88 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


simmered  at  the  bottom  of  their  hearts,  as  if  a vision  of  an 
unsuspected  world  was  opening  before  them.  Upon  me 
Klasdvsky  had  an  immense  influence,  which  only  grew 
with  years.  Winkler’s  prophecy,  that,  after  all,  I might 
like  the  school,  was  fulfilled. 

In  Western  Europe,  and  probably  in  America,  this  type 
of  teacher  seems  not  to  be  generally  known,  but  in  Rus- 
sia there  is  not  a man  or  woman  of  mark,  in  literature 
or  in  political  life,  who  does  not  owe  the  first  impulse 
toward  a higher  development  to  his  or  her  teacher  of  liter- 
ature. Every  school  in  the  world  ought  to  have  such  a 
teacher.  Each  teacher  in  a school  has  his  own  subject, 
and  there  is  no  link  between  the  different  subjects.  Only 
the  teacher  of  literature,  guided  by  the  general  outlines  of 
the  programme,  but  left  free  to  treat  it  as  he  likes,  can 
bind  together  the  separate  historical  and  humanitarian 
sciences,  unify  them  by  a broad  philosophical  and  humane 
conception,  and  awaken  higher  ideas  and  inspirations  in  the 
brains  and  hearts  of  the  young  people.  In  Russia,  that 
necessary  task  falls  quite  naturally  upon  the  teacher  of 
Russian  literature.  As  he  speaks  of  the  development  of 
the  language,  of  the  contents  of  the  early  epic  poetry, 
of  popular  songs  and  music,  and,  later  on,  of  modern  fiction, 
of  the  scientific,  political,  and  philosophical  literature  of 
his  own  country,  and  the  divers  aesthetical,  political,  and 
philosophical  currents  it  has  reflected,  he  is  bound  to  in- 
troduce that  generalized  conception  of  the  development  of 
human  mind  which  lies  beyond  the  scope  of  each  of  the 
subjects  that  are  taught  separately. 

The  same  thing  ought  to  be  done  for  the  natural  sciences 
as  well.  It  is  not  enough  to  teach  physics  and  chemistry, 
astronomy  and  meteorology,  zoology  and  botany.  The 
philosophy  of  all  the  natural  sciences  — a general  view  of 
nature  as  a whole,  something  on  the  lines  of  the  first 
volume  of  Humboldt’s  “ Cosmos  ” — must  be  conveyed  to 


OUR  WRITING  MASTER 


89 


the  pupils  and  the  students,  -whatsoever  may  be  the  ex- 
tension given  to  the  study  of  the  natural  sciences  in  the 
school.  The  philosophy  and  the  poetry  of  nature,  the 
methods  of  all  the  exact  sciences,  and  an  inspired  conception 
of  the  life  of  nature  must  make  part  of  education.  Perhaps 
the  teacher  of  geography  might  provisionally  assume  this 
function ; but  then  we  should  require  quite  a different  set 
of  teachers  of  this  subject,  and  a different  set  of  professors 
of  geography  in  the  universities  would  be  needed.  What 
is  now  taught  under  this  name  is  anything  you  like,  but  it 
is  not  geography. 

Another  teacher  conquered  our  rather  uproarious  form  in 
a quite  different  manner.  It  was  the  teacher  of  writing, 
the  last  one  of  the  teaching  staff.  If  the  “ heathen  ” — 
that  is,  the  German  and  the  French  teachers  — were 
regarded  with  little  respect,  the  teacher  of  writing,  Ebert, 
who  was  a German  Jew,  was  a real  martyr.  To  be  insolent 
with  him  was  a sort  of  chic  amongst  the  pages.  His  poverty 
alone  must  have  been  the  reason  why  he  kept  to  his  lesson 
in  our  corps.  The  old  hands,  who  had  stayed  for  two  or 
three  years  in  the  fifth  form  without  moving  higher  up, 
treated  him  very  badly ; but  by  some  means  or  other  he 
had  made  an  agreement  with  them : 11  One  frolic  during 
each  lesson,  but  no  more,”  — an  agreement  which,  I am 
afraid,  was  not  always  honestly  kept  on  our  side. 

One  day,  one  of  the  residents  of  the  remote  peninsula 
soaked  the  blackboard  sponge  with  ink  and  chalk  and 
flung  it  at  the  caligraphy  martyr.  “ Get  it,  Ebert ! ” he 
shouted,  with  a stupid  smile.  The  sponge  touched  Ebert’s 
shoulder,  the  grimy  ink  spirted  into  his  face  and  down  on 
to  his  white  shirt. 

We  were  sure  that  this  time  Ebert  would  leave  the 
room  and  report  the  fact  to  the  inspector.  But  he  only 
exclaimed,  as  he  took  out  his  cotton  handkerchief  and 


90 


MEMOIKS  OP  A REVOLUTIONIST 


wiped  his  face,  “ Gentlemen,  one  frolic,  — no  more  to* 
day  ! ” “ The  shirt  is  spoiled,”  he  added,  in  a subdued 

voice,  and  continued  to  correct  some  one’s  book. 

We  looked  stupefied  and  ashamed.  Why,  instead  of 
reporting,  he  had  thought  at  once  of  the  agreement ! The 
feeling  of  the  class  turned  in  his  favor.  “ What  you  have 
done  is  stupid,”  we  reproached  our  comrade.  “ He  is 
a poor  man,  and  you  have  spoiled  his  shirt ! Shame ! ” 
somebody  cried. 

The  culprit  went  at  once  to  make  excuses.  “ One  must 
learn,  learn,  sir,”  was  all  that  Ebert  said  in  reply,  with 
sadness  in  his  voice. 

All  became  silent  after  that,  and  at  the  next  lesson,  as 
if  we  had  settled  it  beforehand,  most  of  us  wTote  in  our 
best  possible  handwriting,  and  took  our  books  to  Ebert, 
asking  him  to  correct  them.  He  was  radiant;  he  felt 
happy  that  day. 

This  fact  deeply  impressed  me,  and  was  never  wiped  out 
from  my  memory.  To  this  day  I feel  grateful  to  that 
remarkable  man  for  his  lesson. 

With  our  teacher  of  drawing,  who  was  named  Ganz,  we 
never  arrived  at  living  on  good  terms.  He  continually  re- 
ported those  who  played  in  his  class.  This,  in  our  opin- 
ion, he  had  no  right  to  do,  because  he  was  only  a teacher 
of  drawing,  but  especially  because  he  was  not  an  honest 
man.  In  the  class  he  paid  little  attention  to  most  of  us, 
and  spent  his  time  in  improving  the  drawings  of  those  who 
took  private  lessons  from  him,  or  paid  him  in  order  to  show 
at  the  examinations  a good  drawing  and  to  get  a good  mark 
for  it.  Against  those  comrades  who  did  so  we  had  no 
grudge.  On  the  contrary,  we  thought  it  quite  right  that 
those  who  had  no  capacity  for  mathematics  or  no  memory 
for  geography,  and  had  but  poor  marks  in  these  subjects, 
should  improve  their  total  of  marks  by  ordering  from  a 


OUR  TEACHER  OF  DRAWING 


91 


draughtsman  a drawing  or  a topographical  map  for  which 
they  would  get  “ a full  twelve.”  Only  for  the  first  two 
pupils  of  the  form  it  would  not  have  been  fair  to  resort 
to  such  means,  while  the  remainder  could  do  it  with  un- 
troubled consciences.  But  the  teacher  had  no  business  to 
make  drawings  to  order;  and  if  he  chose  to  act  in  this 
way,  he  ought  to  bear  with  resignation  the  noise  and  the 
tricks  of  his  pupils.  Instead  of  this,  no  lesson  passed 
without  his  lodging  complaints,  and  each  time  he  grew  more 
arrogant. 

As  soon  as  we  were  moved  to  the  fourth  form,  and  felt 
ourselves  naturalized  citizens  of  the  corps,  we  decided  to 
tighten  the  bridle  upon  him.  “ It  is  your  own  fault,”  our 
elder  comrades  told  us,  “ that  he  takes  such  airs  with  you ; 
we  used  to  keep  him  in  obedience.”  So  we  decided  to 
bring  him  into  subjection. 

One  day,  two  excellent  comrades  of  our  form  approached 
Ganz  with  cigarettes  in  their  mouths,  and  asked  him  to 
oblige  them  with  a light.  Of  course,  that  was  only  meant 
for  a joke,  — no  one  ever  thought  of  smoking  in  the  class- 
rooms, — and,  according  to  our  rules  of  propriety,  Ganz 
had  merely  to  send  the  two  boys  away  ; but  he  inscribed 
them  in  the  journal,  and  they  were  severely  punished. 
That  was  the  last  drop.  We  decided  to  give  him  a “ benefit 
night.”  That  meant  that  one  day  all  the  form,  provided 
with  rulers  borrowed  from  the  upper  forms,  would  start  an 
outrageous  noise  by  striking  the  rulers  against  the  tables, 
and  send  the  teacher  out  of  the  class.  However,  the  plot 
offered  many  difficulties.  We  had  in  our  form  a lot  of 
“ goody  ” boys  who  would  promise  to  join  in  the  demon- 
stration, but  at  the  last  moment  would  grow  nervous  and 
draw  back,  and  then  the  teacher  would  name  the  others. 
In  such  enterprises  unanimity  is  the  first  requisite,  because 
the  punishment,  whatsoever  it  may  be,  is  always  lighter 
when  it  falls  on  the  whole  class  instead  of  on  a few. 


92 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


The  difficulties  were  overcome  with  a truly  Machiavel- 
lian craft.  At  a given  signal  all  were  to  turn  their  backs 
to  Ganz,  and  then,  with  the  rulers  laid  in  readiness  on  the 
desks  of  the  next  row,  they  would  produce  the  required 
noise.  In  this  way  the  goody  boys  would  not  feel  terrified 
at  Ganz’s  staring  at  them.  But  the  signal  ? Whistling, 
as  in  robbers’  tales,  shouting,  or  even  sneezing  would  not 
do : Ganz  would  be  capable  of  naming  any  one  of  us  as 
having  whistled  or  sneezed.  The  signal  must  be  a silent 
one.  One  of  us,  who  drew  nicely,  would  take  his  drawing 
to  show  it  to  Ganz,  and  the  moment  he  returned  and  took 
his  seat,  — that  was  to  be  the  time ! 

All  went  on  admirably.  Nesadoff  took  up  his  drawing, 
and  Ganz  corrected  it  in  a few  minutes,  which  seemed  to 
us  an  eternity.  He  returned  at  last  to  his  seat ; he  stopped 
for  a moment,  looking  at  us ; he  sat  down.  . . . All  the 
form  turned  suddenly  on  their  seats,  and  the  rulers  rattled 
merrily  within  the  desks,  while  some  of  us  shouted  amidst 
the  noise,  “ Ganz  out!  Down  with  him  ! ” The  noise  was 
deafening ; all  the  forms  knew  that  Ganz  had  got  his  benefit 
night.  He  stood  there,  murmuring  something,  and  finally 
went  out.  An  officer  ran  in,  — the  noise  continued  ; then 
the  sub-inspector  dashed  in,  and  after  him  the  inspector. 
The  noise  stopped  at  once.  Scolding  began. 

“ The  elder  under  arrest  at  once ! ” the  inspector  com- 
manded ; and  I,  who  was  the  first  in  the  form,  and  conse- 
quently the  elder,  was  marched  to  the  black  cell.  That 
spared  me  seeing  what  followed.  The  director  came  ; Ganz 
was  asked  to  name  the  ringleaders,  but  he  could  name 
nobody.  “ They  all  turned  their  backs  to  me,  and  began 
the  noise,”  was  his  reply.  Thereupon  the  form  was  taken 
downstairs,  and  although  flogging  had  been  completely 
abandoned  in  our  school,  this  time  the  two  who  had  been 
reported  because  they  asked  for  a light  were  flogged  with 
the  birch  rod,  under  the  pretext  that  the  benefit  night  was 
a revenge  for  their  punishment. 


A BENEFIT  NIGHT 


93 


I learned  this  ten  days  later,  when  I was  allowed  to 
return  to  the  class.  My  name,  which  had  been  inscribed 
on  the  red  board  in  the  class,  was  wiped  off.  To  this  I 
was  indifferent ; but  I must  confess  that  the  ten  days  in  the 
cell,  without  books,  seemed  to  me  rather  long,  so  that  I 
composed  (in  horrible  verses)  a poem,  in  which  the  deeds 
of  the  fourth  form  were  duly  glorified. 

Of  course,  our  form  became  now  the  heroes  of  the  school. 
For  a month  or  so  we  had  to  tell  and  retell  all  about  the 
affair  to  the  other  forms,  and  received  congratulations  for 
having  managed  it  with  such  unanimity  that  nobody  was 
caught  separately.  And  then  came  the  Sundays  — all  the 
Sundays  down  to  Christmas  — that  the  form  had  to  remain 
at  the  school,  not  being  allowed  to  go  home.  Being  all 
kept  together,  we  managed  to  make  those  Sundays  very 
gay.  The  mammas  of  the  goody  boys  brought  them  heaps 
of  sweets ; those  who  had  some  money  spent  it  in  buying 
mountains  of  pastry,  — substantial  before  dinner,  and  sweet 
after  it ; while  in  the  evenings  the  friends  from  the  other 
forms  smuggled  in  quantities  of  fruit  for  the  brave  fourth 
form. 

Ganz  gave  up  inscribing  any  one  ; hut  drawing  was  totally 
lost  for  us.  No  one  wanted  to  learn  drawing  from  that 
mercenary  man. 


m 


My  brother  Alexander  was  at  that  time  at  Moscow,  in 
a corps  of  cadets,  and  we  maintained  a lively  correspond- 
ence. As  long  as  I stayed  at  home  this  was  impossible, 
because  our  father  considered  it  his  prerogative  to  read  all 
letters  addressed  to  our  house,  and  he  would  soon  have  put 
an  end  to  any  but  a commonplace  correspondence.  Now 
we  were  free  to  discuss  in  our  letters  whatever  we  liked. 
The  only  difficulty  was  to  get  money  for  stamps ; but  we 
soon  learned  to  write  in  such  fine  characters  that  we  could 
convey  an  incredible  amount  of  matter  in  each  letter. 
Alexander,  whose  handwriting  was  beautiful,  contrived  to 
get  four  printed  pages  on  one  single  page  of  note-paper,  and 
his  microscopic  lines  were  as  legible  as  the  best  small  type 
print.  It  is  a pity  that  these  letters,  which  he  kept  as 
precious  relics,  have  disappeared.  The  state  police,  during 
one  of  their  raids,  robbed  him  even  of  these  treasures. 

Our  first  letters  were  mostly  about  the  little  details  of 
my  new  surroundings,  but  our  correspondence  soon  took  a 
more  serious  character.  My  brother  could  not  write  about 
trifles.  Even  in  society  he  became  animated  only  when 
some  serious  discussion  was  engaged  in,  and  he  complained 
of  feeling  “a  dull  pain  in  the  brain”  — a physical  pain,  as 
he  used  to  say  — when  he  was  with  people  who  cared  only 
for  small  talk.  He  was  very  much  in  advance  of  me  in 
bis  intellectual  development,  and  he  urged  me  forward,  rais- 
ing new  scientific  and  philosophical  questions  one  after 
another,  and  advising  me  what  to  read  or  to  study.  "What 
a happiness  it  was  for  me  to  have  such  a brother!  — a 
brother  who,  moreover,  loved  me  passionately.  To  him  I 
owe  the  best  part  of  my  development. 


CORRESPONDENCE  WITH  MY  BROTHER 


95 


Sometimes  he  would  advise  me  to  read  poetry,  and  would 
send  me  in  his  letters  quantities  of  verses  and  whole  poems, 
which  he  wrote  from  memory.  “ Read  poetry,”  he  wrote : 
“ poetry  makes  men  better.”  How  often,  in  my  after  life, 
I realized  the  truth  of  this  remark  of  his  ! Read  poetry  : 
it  makes  men  better.  He  himself  was  a poet,  and  had  a 
wonderful  facility  for  writing  most  musical  verses ; indeed, 
I think  it  a great  pity  that  he  abandoned  poetry.  But  the 
reaction  against  art,  which  arose  among  the  Russian  youth 
in  the  early  sixties,  and  which  Turgueneff  has  depicted  in 
Bazraoff  (“Fathers  and  Sons”),  induced  him  to  look  upon 
his  verses  with  contempt,  and  to  plunge  headlong  into  the 
natural  sciences.  I must  say,  however,  that  my  favorite 
poet  was  none  of  those  whom  his  poetical  gift,  his  musical 
ear,  and  his  philosophical  turn  of  mind  made  him  like  best. 
His  favorite  Russian  poet  was  Venevitinoff,  while  mine  was 
Nekrdsoff,  whose  verses  were  very  often  unmusical,  but 
appealed  most  to  my  heart  by  their  sympathy  for  “ the 
downtrodden  and  ill-treated.” 

“ One  must  have  a set  purpose  in  his  life,”  he  wrote  me 
once.  “ Without  an  aim,  without  a purpose,  life  is  not 
life.”  And  he  advised  me  to  get  a purpose  in  my  life 
worth  living  for.  I was  too  young  then  to  find  one  ; but 
something  undetermined,  vague,  “ good”  altogether,  already 
rose  under  that  appeal,  even  though  I could  not  say  what 
that  “good  ” would  be. 

Our  father  gave  us  very  little  spending  money,  and  I 
never  had  any  to  buy  a single  book ; but  if  Alexander  got 
a few  rubles  from  some  aunt,  he  never  spent  a penny  of  it 
for  pleasure,  but  bought  a book  and  sent  it  to  me.  He 
objected,  though,  to  indiscriminate  reading.  “ One  must 
have  some  question,”  he  wrote,  “ addressed  to  the  book 
one  is  going  to  read.”  However,  I did  not  then  appreci- 
ate this  remark,  and  cannot  think  now  without  amazement 
of  the  number  of  books,  often  of  a quite  special  character, 


96 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


which  I read  in  all  branches,  but  particularly  in  the  domain 
of  history.  I did  not  waste  my  time  upon  French  novels, 
since  Alexander,  years  before,  had  characterized  them  in 
one  blunt  sentence : “ They  are  stupid  and  full  of  bad 
language.” 

The  great  questions  concerning  the  conception  we  should 
form  of  the  universe  — our  Weltanschauung , as  the  Ger- 
mans say  — were,  of  course,  the  dominant  subjects  in  our 
correspondence.  In  our  childhood  we  had  never  been  reli- 
gious. We  were  taken  to  church  ; but  in  a Russian  church, 
in  a small  parish  or  in  a village,  the  solemn  attitude  of  the 
people  is  far  more  impressive  than  the  mass  itself.  Of  all 
that  I ever  had  heard  in  church  only  two  things  had 
impressed  me : the  twelve  passages  from  the  Gospels,  rela- 
tive to  the  sufferings  of  the  Christ,  which  are  read  in 
Russia  at  the  night  service  on  the  eve  of  Good  Friday,  and 
the  short  prayer  condemning  the  spirit  of  domination,  which 
is  recited  during  the  Great  Lent,  and  is  really  beautiful  by 
reason  of  its  simple,  unpretentious  words  and  feeling.  Push- 
kin has  rendered  it  into  Russian  verse. 

Later  on,  at  St.  Petersburg,  I went  several  times  to  a 
Roman  Catholic  church,  but  the  theatrical  character  of  the 
service  and  the  absence  of  real  feeling  in  it  shocked  me,  the 
more  so  when  I saw  there  with  what  simple  faith  some 
retired  Polish  soldier  or  a peasant  woman  would  pray  in  a 
remote  corner.  I also  went  to  a Protestant  church ; hut 
coming  out  of  it  I caught  myself  murmuring  Goethe’s 
words : — 

“ But  you  will  never  link  hearts  together 
Unless  the  linking  springs  from  your  own  heart.” 

Alexander,  in  tbs  meantime,  had  embraced  with  his 
usual  passion  the  Lutheran  faith.  He  had  read  Michelet’s 
book  on  Servetus,  and  had  worked  out  for  himself  a reli- 
gion on  the  lines  of  that  great  fighter.  He  studied  with 
enthusiasm  the  Augsburg  declaration,  which  he  copied  out 


RELIGION  AND  PHILOSOPHY 


97 


and  sent  me,  and  our  letters  now  became  full  of  discussions 
about  grace,  and  of  texts  from  the  apostles  Paul  and  James. 
I followed  my  brother,  but  theological  discussions  did  not 
deeply  interest  me.  Since  I had  recovered  from  the  typhoid 
fever  I had  taken  to  quite  different  reading. 

Our  sister  Helbne,  who  was  now  married,  was  at  St. 
Petersburg,  and  every  Saturday  night  I went  to  visit  her. 
Her  husband  had  a good  library,  in  which  the  French  phi- 
losophers of  the  last  century  and  the  modern  French  histori- 
ans were  well  represented,  and  I plunged  into  them.  Such 
books  were  prohibited  in  Russia,  and  evidently  could  not 
be  taken  to  school ; so  I spent  most  of  the  night,  every 
Saturday,  in  reading  the  works  of  the  encyclopaedists,  the 
philosophical  dictionary  of  Voltaire,  the  writings  of  the 
Stoics,  especially  Marcus  Aurelius,  and  so  on.  The  infinite 
immensity  of  the  universe,  the  greatness  of  nature,  its 
poetry,  its  ever  throbbing  life,  impressed  me  more  and  more  ; 
and  that  never  ceasing  life  and  its  harmonies  gave  me  the 
ecstasy  of  admiration  which  the  young  soul  thirsts  for, 
while  my  favorite  poets  supplied  me  with  an  expression  in 
words  of  that  awakening  love  of  mankind  and  faith  in  its 
progress  which  make  the  best  part  of  youth  and  impress 
man  for  a life. 

Alexander,  by  this  time,  had  gradually  come  to  a Kantian 
agnosticism,  and  the  “ relativity  of  perceptions,”  “ percep- 
tions in  time  and  space,  and  time  only,”  and  so  on,  filled 
pages  and  pages  in  our  letters,  the  writing  of  which  became 
more  and  more  microscopical  as  the  subjects  under  discussion 
grew  in  importance.  But  neither  then  nor  later  on,  when  we 
used  to  spend  hours  and  hours  in  discussing  Kant’s  philoso- 
phy, could  my  brother  convert  me  to  become  a disciple  of  the 
Konigsberg  philosopher. 

Natural  sciences  — that  is,  mathematics,  physics,  and 
astronomy  — were  my  chief  studies.  In  the  year  1858, 
before  Darwin  had  brought  out  his  immortal  work,  a pro- 


98 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


fessor  of  zoology  at  the  Moscow  University,  Roulier,  pul> 
lished  three  lectures  on  transformism,  and  my  brother  took 
up  at  once  his  ideas  concerning  the  variability  of  species. 
He  was  not  satisfied,  however,  with  approximate  proofs 
only,  and  began  to  study  a number  of  special  books  on 
heredity  and  the  like  ; communicating  to  me  in  his  letters 
the  main  facts,  as  well  as  his  ideas  and  his  doubts.  The 
appearance  of  “The  Origin  of  Species”  did  not  settle  his 
doubts  on  several  special  points,  but  only  raised  new  ques- 
tions and  gave  him  the  impulse  for  further  studies.  We 
afterward  discussed  — and  that  discussion  lasted  for  many 
years  — various  questions  relative  to  the  origin  of  variations, 
their  chances  of  being  transmitted  and  being  accentuated ; 
in  short,  those  questions  which  have  been  raised  quite 
lately  in  the  Weismann-Spencer  controversy,  in  Galton’s 
researches,  and  in  the  works  of  the  modern  Neo-Lamarckians. 
Owing  to  his  philosophical  and  critical  mind,  Alexander 
had  noticed  at  once  the  fundamental  importance  of  these 
questions  for  the  theory  of  variability  of  species,  even  though 
they  were  so  often  overlooked  then  by  many  naturalists. 

I must  also  mention  a temporary  excursion  into  the 
domain  of  political  economy.  In  the  years  1858  and  1859 
every  one  in  Russia  talked  of  political  economy  ; lectures  on 
free  trade  and  protective  duties  attracted  crowds  of  people, 
and  my  brother,  who  was  not  yet  absorbed  by  the  variabil- 
ity of  species,  took  a lively  though  temporary  interest  in 
economical  matters,  sending  me  for  reading  the  “ Political 
Economy  ” of  Jean  Baptiste  Say.  I read  a few  chapters 
only  : tariffs  and  banking  operations  did  not  interest  me  in 
tfne  least ; but  Alexander  took  up  these  matters  so  passion- 
ately that  he  even  wrote  letters  to  our  stepmother,  trying 
to  interest  her  in  the  intricacies  of  the  customs  duties. 
Later  on,  in  Siberia,  as  we  were  re-reading  some  of  the 
letters  of  that  period,  we  laughed  like  children  when  we 
fell  upon  one  of  his  epistles  in  which  he  complained  of  oui 


A GREAT  DISAPPOINTMENT 


99 


rtepmother’s  incapacity  to  be  moved  even  by  such  burning 
questions,  and  raged  against  a greengrocer  whom  he  had 
caught  in  the  street,  and  who,  “ would  you  believe  it,”  he 
wrote  with  signs  of  exclamation,  “ although  he  was  a trades- 
man, affected  a pig-headed  indifference  to  tariff  questions  ! ” 

Every  summer  about  one  half  of  the  pages  were  taken  to 
a camp  at  Peterhof.  The  lower  forms,  however,  were  dis- 
pensed from  joining  the  camp,  and  I spent  the  first  two 
summers  at  Nikdlskoye.  To  leave  the  school,  to  take  the 
train  to  Moscow,  and  there  to  meet  Alexander  was  such  a 
happy  prospect  that  I used  to  count  the  days  that  had  to 
pass  till  that  glorious  one  should  arrive.  But  on  one  occa- 
sion a great  disappointment  awaited  me  at  Moscow.  Alex- 
ander had  not  passed  his  examinations,  and  was  left  for 
another  year  in  the  same  form.  He  was,  in  fact,  too  young 
to  enter  the  special  classes ; but  our  father  was  very  angry 
with  him,  nevertheless,  and  would  not  permit  us  to  see  each 
other.  I felt  very  sad.  We  were  not  children  any  more, 
and  had  so  much  to  say  to  each  other.  I tried  to  obtain 
permission  to  go  to  our  aunt  Sulima,  at  whose  house  I might 
meet  Alexander,  but  it  was  absolutely  refused.  After  our 
father  remarried  we  were  never  allowed  to  see  our  mother’s 
relations. 

That  spring  our  Moscow  house  was  full  of  guests.  Every 
night  the  reception-rooms  were  flooded  with  lights,  the  band 
played,  the  confectioner  was  busy  making  ices  and  pastry, 
and  card-playing  went  on  in  the  great  hall  till  a late  hour. 
I strolled  aimlessly  about  in  the  brilliantly  illuminated 
rooms,  and  felt  unhappy. 

One  night,  after  ten,  a servant  beckoned  me,  telling  me 
to  come  out  to  the  entrance  hall.  I went.  “ Come  to  the 
toachmen’s  house,”  the  old  major-domo  Frol  whispered  to 
me.  “ Alexander  Alexdievich  is  here.” 

I dashed  across  the  yard,  up  the  flight  of  steps  leading  to 


100 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


the  coachmen’s  house,  and  into  a wide,  half-dark  room, 
where,  at  the  immense  dining-table  of  the  servants,  I saw 
Alexander. 

“ Sasha,  dear,  how  did  you  come  ? ” and  in  a moment 
we  rushed  into  each  other’s  arms,  hugging  each  other  and 
unable  to  speak  from  emotion. 

“ Hush,  hush  ! they  may  overhear  you,”  said  the  servants’ 
cook,  Praskdvia,  wiping  away  her  tears  with  her  apron. 
“ Poor  orphans  ! If  your  mother  were  only  alive  ” — 

Old  Frol  stood,  his  head  deeply  bent,  his  eyes  also 
twinkling. 

“ Look  here,  Petya,  not  a word  to  any  one  ; to  no  one,” 
he  said,  while  Praskdvia  placed  on  the  table  an  earthenware 
jar  full  of  porridge  for  Alexander. 

He,  glowing  with  health,  in  his  cadet  uniform,  already 
had  begun  to  talk  about  all  sorts  of  matters,  while  he  rap- 
idly emptied  the  porridge  pot.  I could  hardly  make  him 
tell  me  how  he  came  there  at  such  a late  hour.  We  lived 
then  near  the  Smolensky  boulevard,  within  a stone’s  throw 
of  the  house  where  our  mother  died,  and  the  corps  of  cadets 
was  at  the  opposite  outskirts  of  Moscow,  full  five  miles 
away. 

He  had  made  a doll  out  of  bedclothes,  and  had  put  it  in 
his  bed,  under  the  blankets ; then  he  went  to  the  tower, 
descended  from  a window,  came  out  unnoticed,  and  walked 
the  whole  distance. 

“Were  you  not  afraid  at  night,  in  the  deserted  fields 
round  your  corps  ? ” I asked. 

“ What  had  I to  fear  ? Only  lots  of  dogs  were  upon 
me;  I had  teased  them  myself.  To-morrow  I shall  take 
my  sword  with  me.” 

The  coachmen  and  other  servants  came  in  and  out ; they 
sighed  as  they  looked  at  us,  and  took  seats  at  a distance, 
along  the  walls,  exchanging  words  in  a subdued  tone,  so  as 
not  to  disturb  us ; while  we  two,  in  each  other’s  arms,  sat 


STOLEN  INTERVIEWS 


101 


there  till  midnight,  talking  about  nebulae  and  Laplace’s 
hypothesis,  the  structure  of  matter,  the  struggles  of  the 
papacy  under  Boniface  YIII.  with  the  imperial  power,  and 
so  on. 

From  time  to  time  one  of  the  servants  would  hurriedly 
run  in,  saying,  “ Petinka,  go  and  show  thyself  in  the  hall ; 
they  are  moving  about  and  may  ask  for  thee.” 

I implored  Sasha  not  to  come  next  night ; but  he  came, 
nevertheless,  — not  without  having  had  a scrimmage  with 
the  dogs,  against  whom  he  had  taken  his  sword.  I re- 
sponded with  feverish  haste,  when,  earlier  than  the  day 
before,  I was  called  once  more  to  the  coachmen’s  house. 
Alexander  had  made  part  of  the  journey  in  a cab.  The 
previous  night,  one  of  the  servants  had  brought  him  what 
he  had  got  from  the  card-players  and  asked  him  to  take  it. 
He  took  some  small  coin  to  hire  a cab,  and  so  he  came 
earlier  than  on  his  first  visit. 

He  intended  to  come  next  night,  too,  but  for  some  reason 
it  would  have  been  dangerous  for  the  servants,  and  we 
decided  to  part  till  the  autumn.  A short  “ official  ” note 
made  me  understand  next  day  that  his  nocturnal  escapades 
had  passed  unnoticed.  How  terrible  would  have  been  the 
punishment,  if  they  had  been  discovered  ! It  is  awful  to 
think  of  it : flogging  before  the  corps  till  he  was  carried 
away  unconscious  on  a sheet,  and  then  degradation  to  a 
soldiers’  sons’  battalion,  — anything  was  possible,  in  those 
times. 

What  our  servants  would  have  suffered  for  hiding  us,  if 
information  of  the  affair  had  reached  our  father’s  ears,  would 
have  been  equally  terrible ; but  they  knew  how  to  keep 
secrets,  and  not  to  betray  one  another.  They  all  knew  of 
the  visits  of  Alexander,  but  none  of  them  whispered  a word 
to  any  one  of  the  family.  They  and  I were  the  only  ones 
in  the  house  who  ever  knew  anything  about  it. 


IV 


That  same  year  I made  my  start  as  an  investigator  of 
popular  life.  This  work  brought  me  one  step  nearer  to  our 
peasants,  making  me  see  them  under  a new  light ; later,  it 
also  helped  me  a great  deal  in  Siberia. 

Every  year,  in  July,  on  the  day  of  “ The  Holy  Virgin  of 
Kazan,”  which  was  the  fete  of  our  church,  a pretty  large 
fair  was  held  in  Nikdlskoye.  Tradesmen  came  from  all  the 
neighboring  towns,  and  many  thousands  of  peasants  flocked 
from  thirty  miles  round  to  our  village,  which  for  a couple 
of  days  had  a most  animated  aspect.  A remarkable  de- 
scription of  the  village  fairs  of  South  Russia  had  been  pub- 
lished that  year  by  the  Slavophile  Aksakoff,  and  my  bro- 
ther, who  was  then  at  the  height  of  his  politico-economical 
enthusiasm,  advised  me  to  make  a statistical  description  of 
our  fair,  and  to  determine  the  returns  of  goods  brought  in 
and  sold,  I followed  his  advice,  and  to  my  great  amaze- 
ment I really  succeeded : my  estimate  of  returns,  so  far  as 
I can  judge  now,  was  not  more  unreliable  than  many  similar 
estimates  in  books  of  statistics. 

Our  fair  lasted  only  a little  more  than  twenty-four  hours. 
On  the  eve  of  the  fete  the  great  open  space  given  to  the 
fair  was  full  of  life  and  animation.  Long  rows  of  stalls,  to 
be  used  for  the  sale  of  cottons,  ribbons,  and  all  sorts  of 
peasant  women’s  attire,  were  hurriedly  built.  The  restau- 
rant, a substantial  stone  building,  was  furnished  with  tables, 
chairs,  and  benches,  and  its  floor  was  strewn  over  with  bright 
yellow  sand.  Three  wine  shops  were  erected,  and  freshly 
cut  brooms,  planted  on  high  poles,  rose  high  in  the  air,  to 
attract  the  peasants  from  a distance.  Rows  and  rows  of 


FAIR  AT  NIKOLSKOYE 


103 


smaller  stalls,  for  the  sale  of  crockery,  boots,  stoneware,  gin- 
gerbread, and  all  sorts  of  small  things,  rose  as  if  by  a magic 
wand,  while  in  a special  corner  of  the  fair  ground  holes 
were  dug  to  receive  immense  cauldrons,  in  which  bushels  of 
millet  and  sarrazin  and  whole  sheep  were  boiled,  for  sup- 
plying the  thousands  of  visitors  with  hot  schi  and  kasha 
(soup  and  porridge).  In  the  afternoon,  the  four  roads  lead- 
ing to  the  fair  were  blocked  by  hundreds  of  peasant  carts, 
and  heaps  of  pottery,  casks  filled  with  tar,  corn,  and  cattle 
were  exhibited  along  the  roadsides. 

The  night  service  on  the  eve  of  the  fete  was  performed 
in  our  church  with  great  solemnity.  Half  a dozen  priests 
and  deacons,  from  the  neighboring  villages,  took  part  in  it, 
and  their  chanters,  reinforced  by  young  tradespeople,  sang 
in  the  choirs  such  ritornellos  as  could  usually  be  heard  only 
at  the  bishop’s  in  Kaluga.  The  church  was  crowded ; all 
prayed  fervently.  The  tradespeople  vied  with  one  another 
in  the  number  and  sizes  of  the  wax  candles  which  they 
lighted  before  the  ikons,  as  offerings  to  the  local  saints  for 
the  success  of  their  trade,  and  the  crowd  being  so  great  as 
not  to  allow  the  last  comers  to  reach  the  altar,  candles  of 
all  sizes  — thick  and  thin,  white  and  yellow,  according  to 
the  offerer’s  wealth  — were  handed  from  the  back  of  the 
church  through  the  crowd,  with  whispers : “ To  the  Holy 
Virgin  of  Kazan,  our  Protector ; ” “ To  Nicholas  the  Fa- 
vorite ; ” “To  Frol  and  Laur”  (the  horse  saints, — that 
was  from  those  who  had  horses  to  sell)  ; or  simply  to  “ The 
Saints,”  without  further  specification. 

Immediately  after  the  night  service  was  over,  the  “ fore- 
fair”  began,  and  I had  now  to  plunge  headlong  into  my 
work  of  asking  hundreds  of  people  what  was  the  value  of 
the  goods  they  had  brought  in.  To  my  great  astonishment 
I got  on  admirably.  Of  course,  I was  myself  asked  ques- 
tions : “ Why  do  you  do  this  ? ” “ Is  it  not  for  the  old 

prince,  who  intends  increasing  the  market  dues  ? ” But 


104 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


the  assurance  that  the  “ old  prince  ” knew  and  would  know 
nothing  of  it  (he  would  have  thought  it  a disgraceful  occu- 
pation) settled  all  doubts  at  once.  I soon  caught  the 
proper  way  of  asking  questions,  and  after  I had  taken  half 
a dozen  cups  of  tea,  in  the  restaurant,  with  some  trades- 
people (oh,  horror,  if  my  father  had  learned  that !),  all  went 
on  very  well.  Vasily  Ivanoff,  the  elder  of  Nikblskoye,  a 
beautiful  young  peasant,  with  a fine  intelligent  face  and  a 
silky  fair  beard,  took  an  interest  in  my  work.  “ Well,  if 
thou  wantest  it  for  thy  learning,  get  at  it ; thou  wilt  tell 
us  later  on  what  thou  hast  found  out,”  was  his  conclusion, 
and  he  told  some  of  the  people  that  it  was  “ all  right.” 

In  short,  the  imports  were  determined  very  nicely.  But 
next  day  the  sales  offered  certain  difficulties,  chiefly  with 
the  drygoods  merchants,  who  did  not  themselves  yet  know 
how  much  they  had  sold.  On  the  day  of  the  fete  the  young 
peasant  women  simply  stormed  the  shops ; each  of  them, 
having  sold  some  linen  of  her  own  make,  was  now  buy- 
ing some  cotton  print  and  a bright  kerchief  for  herself,  a 
colored  handkerchief  for  her  husband,  perhaps  some  lace, 
a ribbon  or  two,  and  a number  of  small  gifts  for  grand- 
mother, grandfather,  and  the  children  who  had  remained 
at  home.  As  to  the  peasants  who  sold  crockery,  or 
ginger  cakes,  or  cattle,  or  hemp,  they  at  once  determined 
their  sales,  especially  the  old  women.  “ Good  sale,  grand- 
mother ? ” I would  ask.  “No  need  to  complain,  my  son. 
Why  should  I anger  God  ! Nearly  all  is  sold.”  And  out 
of  their  small  items  tens  of  thousands  of  rubles  grew  in  my 
notebook.  One  point  only  remained  unsettled.  A wide 
space  was  given  up  to  many  hundreds  of  peasant  women 
who  stood  in  the  burning  sun,  each  with  her  piece  of  hand- 
woven  linen,  sometimes  exquisitely  fine,  which  she  had 
brought  for  sale.  Scores  of  buyers,  with  gypsy  faces  and 
shark-like  looks,  moved  about  in  the  crowd,  buying.  Only 
rough  estimates  of  these  sales  could  be  made. 


THE  EDUCATED  AND  THE  UNEDUCATED  105 

I made  no  reflections  at  that  time  about  this  new 
experience  of  mine ; I was  simply  happy  to  see  that  it 
was  not  a failure.  But  the  serious  good  sense  and  sound 
judgment  of  the  Russian  peasants  which  I witnessed  during 
this  couple  of  days  left  upon  me  a lasting  impression. 
Later,  when  we  were  spreading  socialist  doctrines  amongst 
the  peasants,  I could  not  but  wonder  why  some  of  my 
friends,  who  had  received  a seemingly  far  more  democratic 
education  than  myself,  did  not  know  how  to  talk  to  the 
peasants  or  to  the  factory  workers  from  the  country.  They 
tried  to  imitate  the  “ peasants’  talk  ” by  introducing  a pro- 
fusion of  so-called  “ popular  phrases,”  but  they  only  rendered 
themselves  the  more  incomprehensible. 

Nothing  of  the  sort  is  needed,  either  in  talking  to  peas- 
ants or  in  writing  for  them.  The  Great  Russian  peasant 
perfectly  well  understands  the  educated  man’s  talk,  provided 
it  is  not  stuffed  with  words  taken  from  foreign  languages. 
What  the  peasant  does  not  understand  is  abstract  notions 
when  they  are  not  illustrated  by  concrete  examples.  But 
my  experience  is  that  when  you  speak  to  the  Russian  peas- 
ant plainly,  and  start  from  concrete  facts,  — and  the  same 
is  true  with  regard  to  village  folk  of  all  nationalities,  — there 
is  no  generalization  from  the  whole  world  of  science,  social 
or  natural,  which  cannot  be  conveyed  to  a man  of  average 
intelligence,  if  you  yourself  understand  it  concretely.  The 
chief  difference  between  the  educated  and  the  uneducated 
man  is,  I should  say,  that  the  latter  is  not  able  to  follow  a 
chain  of  conclusions.  He  grasps  the  first  of  them,  and  may 
be  the  second,  but  he  gets  tired  at  the  third,  if  he  does 
not  see  what  you  are  driving  at.  But  how  often  do  we 
meet  the  same  difficulty  in  educated  people. 

One  more  impression  I gathered  from  that  work  of  my 
boyhood,  an  impression  which  I did  not  formulate  till  after- 
ward, and  which  will  probably  astonish  many  a reader.  It 
is  the  spirit  of  equality  which  is  highly  developed  in  tha 


106 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


Russian  peasant,  and  in  fact  in  the  rural  population  every- 
where. The  Russian  peasant  is  capable  of  much  servile 
obedience  to  the  landlord  and  the  police  officer ; he  will 
bend  before  their  will  in  a servile  manner ; but  he  does  not 
consider  them  superior  men,  and  if  the  next  moment  that 
same  landlord  or  officer  talks  to  the  same  peasant  about 
hay  or  ducks,  the  latter  will  reply  to  him  as  an  equal  to 
an  equal.  I never  saw  in  a Russian  peasant  that  servility, 
grown  to  be  a second  nature,  with  which  a small  func- 
tionary talks  to  one  of  high  rank,  or  a valet  to  his  master. 
The  peasant  too  easily  submits  to  force,  but  he  does  not 
worship  it. 

I returned  that  summer  from  Nikdlskoye  to  Moscow  in  a 
new  fashion.  There  being  then  no  railway  between  Kaluga 
and  Moscow,  there  was  a man,  Buck  by  name,  who  kept 
some  sort  of  carriages  running  between  the  two  towns.  Our 
people  never  thought  of  traveling  in  these  carriages : they 
had  their  own  horses  and  conveyances  ; but  when  my  father, 
in  order  to  save  my  stepmother  a double  journey,  proposed 
to  me,  half  in  joke,  that  I should  travel  alone  in  that  way, 
I accepted  his  offer  with  delight. 

A tradesman’s  wife,  old  and  very  stout,  and  myself  on 
the  back  seats,  and  a tradesman  or  artisan  on  the  front  seat, 
were  the  only  occupants  of  the  carriage.  I found  the 
journey  very  pleasant,  — first  of  all  because  I was  traveling 
by  myself  (I  was  not  yet  sixteen),  and  next  because  the 
old  lady,  who  had  brought  with  her  for  a three  days’ 
journey  a colossal  hamper  full  of  provisions,  treated  me  to 
all  sorts  of  home-made  delicacies.  The  surroundings  during 
that  journey  were  delightful.  One  evening  especially  is 
still  vivid  in  my  memory.  We  came  to  one  of  the  great 
villages  and  stopped  at  an  inn.  The  old  lady  ordered  a 
samovar  for  herself,  while  I went  out  into  the  street, 
walking  about  anywhere.  A small  “ white  inn,”  at  which 


AT  A WHITE  INN 


107 


only  food  is  served,  but  no  drinks,  attracted  my  attention, 
and  I went  in.  Numbers  of  peasants  sat  round  the  small 
tables,  which  were  covered  with  white  napkins,  and  enjoyed 
their  tea.  I followed  their  example. 

Everything  there  was  new  to  me.  It  was  a village  of 
“ Crown  peasants,”  that  is,  peasants  who  had  not  been  serfs, 
and  enjoyed  a relative  well-being,  probably  owing  to  the 
weaving  of  linen,  which  they  carried  on  as  a home  industry. 
Slow,  serious  conversations,  with  occasional  laughter,  were 
going  on  at  the  tables,  and  after  the  usual  introductory  ques- 
tions, I soon  found  myself  engaged  in  a conversation  with  a 
dozen  peasants  about  the  crops  in  our  neighborhood,  and 
answering  all  sorts  of  inquiries.  They  wanted  to  know  all 
about  St.  Petersburg,  and  especially  about  the  rumors  con- 
cerning the  coming  abolition  of  serfdom.  A feeling  of  sim- 
plicity and  of  natural  relations  of  equality,  as  well  as  of 
hearty  goodwill,  which  I always  felt  afterwards  when  among 
peasants  or  in  their  houses,  pervaded  me  at  that  inn. 
Nothing  extraordinary  happened  that  night,  so  that  I even 
ask  myself  whether  the  incident  is  worth  mentioning  at 
all ; and  yet,  that  warm  dark  night  in  the  village,  that 
small  inn,  that  talk  with  the  peasants,  and  the  keen  inter- 
est they  took  in  hundreds  of  things  lying  far  beyond  their 
habitual  surroundings,  have  made  a poor  “ white  inn  ” more 
attractive  to  me  ever  since  than  the  best  restaurant  in  the 
r^rld. 


V 


Stormy  times  came  now  in  the  life  of  our  corps.  When 
Girardot  was  dismissed,  his  place  was  taken  by  one  of  our 

officers,  Captain  B . He  was  rather  good-natured  than 

otherwise,  but  he  had  got  it  into  his  head  that  he  was  not 
treated  by  us  with  due  reverence  corresponding  to  the  high 
position  which  he  now  occupied,  and  he  tried  to  enforce 
upon  us  more  respect  and  awe  towards  himself.  He  began 
by  quarreling  over  all  sorts  of  petty  things  with  the  upper 
form,  and  — what  was  still  worse  in  our  opinion  — he  at- 
tempted to  destroy  our  “ liberties,”  the  origin  of  which  was 
lost  in  “ the  darkness  of  time,”  and  which,  insignificant  in 
themselves,  were  perhaps  on  that  very  account  only  the 
dearer  to  us. 

The  result  of  it  was  that  for  several  days  the  school  was 
in  an  open  revolt,  which  ended  in  wholesale  punishment, 
and  in  the  exclusion  from  the  corps  of  two  of  our  favorite 
pages  de  chambre. 

Then  the  same  captain  began  to  intrude  into  the  class- 
rooms, where  we  used  to  spend  one  hour  in  the  morning  in 
preparing  our  lessons,  before  the  classes  began.  We  were 
considered  to  be  there  under  our  teaching  staff,  and  were 
happy  to  have  nothing  to  do  with  our  military  officers.  We 
resented  that  intrusion  very  much,  and  one  day  I loudly  ex- 
pressed our  discontent  by  telling  the  captain  that  this  was 
the  place  of  the  inspector  of  the  classes,  not  his.  T spent 
weeks  under  arrest  for  that  frankness,  and  perhaps  would 
have  been  excluded  from  the  school,  had  it  not  been  that 
the  inspector  of  the  classes,  his  aid,  and  even  our  old 
director  judged  that,  after  all,  I had  only  expressed  aloud 
what  they  all  used  to  say  to  themselves. 


THE  BURIAL  OF  AN  EMPRESS  10$ 

No  sooner  were  these  troubles  over,  than  the  death  of  the 
Dowager-Empress,  the  widow  of  Nicholas  I.,  brought  a new 
interruption  in  our  work. 

The  burial  of  crowned  heads  is  always  so  arranged  as  to 
produce  a deep  impression  on  the  crowds.  The  body  of  the 
Empress  was  brought  from  Tsarkoye  Seld,  where  she  died, 
to  St.  Petersburg,  and  here,  followed  by  the  imperial  family, 
all  the  high  dignitaries  of  the  state,  and  scores  of  thousands 
of  functionaries  and  corporations,  and  preceded  by  hundreds 
of  clergy  and  choirs,  it  was  taken  from  the  railway  station, 
through  the  main  thoroughfares,  to  the  fortress,  where  it 
had  to  lie  in  state  for  several  weeks.  A hundred  thousand 
men  of  the  guard  were  placed  along  the  streets,  and  thou- 
sands of  people,  dressed  in  the  most  gorgeous  uniforms, 
preceded,  accompanied,  and  followed  the  hearse  in  a solemn 
procession.  Litanies  were  sung  at  every  important  crossing 
of  the  streets,  and  here  the  ringing  of  the  bells  on  the  church 
towers,  the  voices  of  the  vast  choirs,  and  the  sounds  of  the 
military  bands  united  in  the  most  impressive  way,  so  as  to 
make  people  believe  that  the  immense  crowds  really  mourned 
the  loss  of  the  Empress. 

As  long  as  the  body  lay  in  state  in  the  cathedral  of  the 
fortress,  the  pages,  among  others,  had  to  keep  watch  round 
it,  night  and  day.  Three  pages  de  chambre  and  three 
maids  of  honor  always  stood  close  by  the  coffin,  which  was 
placed  on  a high  pedestal,  while  some  twenty  pages  were 
stationed  on  the  platform,  upon  which  litanies  were  sung 
twice  every  day,  in  the  presence  of  the  Emperor  and  all  his 
family.  Consequently,  every  week  nearly  one  half  of  the 
corps  was  taken  in  turns  to  the  fortress,  to  lodge  there.  We 
were  relieved  every  two  hours,  and  in  the  daytime  our 
service  was  not  difficult ; but  when  we  had  to  rise  in  the 
night,  to  dress  in  our  court  uniforms,  and  then  to  walk 
through  the  dark  and  gloomy  inner  courts  of  the  fortress  to 
the  cathedral,  to  the  sound  of  the  gloomy  chime  of  the  for- 


110 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


tress  bells,  a cold  shiver  seized  me  at  the  thought  of  the 
prisoners  who  were  immured  somewhere  in  this  Russian 
Bastille.  “ Who  knows,”  thought  I,  “ whether  in  my  turn 
I shall  not  also  have  to  join  them  some  day.” 

The  burial  did  not  pass  without  an  accident,  which  might 
have  had  serious  consequences.  An  immense  canopy  had 
been  erected  under  the  dome  of  the  cathedral,  over  the 
coffin.  A huge  gilded  crown  rose  above  it,  and  from  this 
crown  an  immense  purple  mantle,  lined  with  ermine,  hung 
towards  the  four  thick  pilasters  which  support  the  dome  of 
the  cathedral.  It  was  impressive,  but  we  boys  soon  made 
out  that  the  crown  was  of  gilded  cardboard  and  wood,  the 
mantle  of  velvet  only  in  its  lower  part,  while  higher  up  it 
was  red  cotton,  and  that  the  ermine  lining  was  simply  cotton 
flannelette  or  swansdown,  to  which  tails  of  black  squirrels 
had  been  sewn ; the  escutcheons,  which  represented  the 
arms  of  Russia,  veiled  with  black  crepe,  were  simple  card- 
board. But  the  crowds,  which  were  allowed  at  certain  hours 
of  the  night  to  pass  by  the  coffin,  and  to  kiss  in  a hurry  the 
gold  brocade  which  covered  it,  surely  had  no  time  to  closely 
examine  the  flannelette  ermine  or  the  cardboard  escutcheons, 
and  the  desired  theatrical  effect  was  obtained  even  by  such 
cheap  means. 

When  a litany  is  sung  in  Russia,  all  people  present  hold 
lighted  wax  candles,  which  have  to  be  put  out  after  certain 
prayers  have  been  read.  The  imperial  family  also  held 
such  candles,  and  one  day,  the  young  son  of  the  Grand 
Duke  Constantine,  seeing  that  the  others  put  out  their  wax 
candles  by  turning  them  upside  down,  did  the  same.  The 
black  gauze  which  hung  behind  him  from  an  escutcheon 
took  fire,  and  in  a second  the  escutcheon  and  the  cotton 
stuff  were  ablaze.  An  immense  tongue  of  fire  ran  up  the 
heavy  folds  of  the  supposed  ermine  mantle. 

The  service  was  stopped.  All  looks  were  directed  with 


AN  ACCIDENT 


111 


terror  upon  the  tongue  of  fire,  which  went  higher  and  higher 
toward  the  cardboard  crown  and  the  woodwork  that  sup- 
ported the  whole  structure.  Bits  of  burning  stuff  began  to 
fall,  threatening  to  set  fire  to  the  black  gauze  veils  of  the 
ladies  present. 

Alexander  II.  lost  his  presence  of  mind  for  a couple  of 
seconds  only,  but  he  recovered  immediately,  and  said  in  a 
composed  voice  : “The  coffin  must  be  taken  ! ” The  pages 
de  chambre  at  once  covered  it  with  the  thick  gold  brocade, 
and  we  all  advanced  to  lift  it ; but  in  the  meantime  the  big 
tongue  of  flame  had  broken  into  a number  of  smaller  ones, 
which  now  slowly  devoured  only  the  fluffy  outside  of  the 
cotton  stuff  and,  meeting  more  and  more  dust  and  soot  in 
the  upper  parts  of  the  structure,  gradually  died  out  in  its 
folds. 

I cannot  say  what  I looked  at  most : the  creeping  fire  or 
the  stately  slender  figures  of  the  three  ladies  who  stood  by 
the  coffin,  the  long  trains  of  their  black  dresses  spreading 
over  the  steps  which  led  to  the  upper  platform,  and  their 
black  lace  veils  hanging  down  their  shoulders.  None  of 
them  had  made  the  slightest  movement : they  stood  like 
three  beautiful  carved  images.  Only  in  the  dark  eyes  of  one 
of  them,  Mademoiselle  Gamaleya,  tears  glittered  like  pearls. 
She  was  a daughter  of  South  Russia,  and  was  the  only  really 
handsome  lady  amongst  the  maids  of  honor  at  the  court. 

At  the  corps  everything  was  upside  down.  The  classes 
were  interrupted ; those  of  us  who  returned  from  the  for- 
tress were  lodged  in  temporary  quarters,  and,  having  nothing 
to  do,  spent  the  whole  day  in  all  sorts  of  frolics.  In  one 
of  them  we  managed  to  open  a cupboard  which  stood  in  the 
room,  and  contained  a splendid  collection  of  models  of  all 
kinds  of  animals,  for  the  teaching  of  natural  history.  That 
was  its  official  purpose,  but  it  was  never  even  so  much  as 
shown  to  us,  and  now  that  we  got  hold  of  it  we  utilized  it 
in  our  own  way.  With  a human  skull,  which  was  in  the 


112 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


collection,  we  made  a ghostly  figure  wherewith  to  frighten 
other  comrades  and  the  officers  at  night.  As  to  the  animals, 
we  placed  them  in  the  most  ludicrous  positions  and  groups : 
monkeys  were  seen  riding  on  lions,  sheep  were  playing  with 
leopards,  the  giraffe  danced  with  the  elephant,  and  so  on. 
The  worst  was  that  a few  days  later  one  of  the  Prussian 
princes,  who  had  come  to  assist  at  the  burial  ceremony  (it 
was  the  one,  I think,  who  became  later  on  the  Emperor 
Frederic),  visited  our  school,  and  was  shown  all  that  con- 
cerned our  education.  Our  director  did  not  fail  to  boast 
of  the  excellent  educational  appliances  which  we  had,  and 
brought  his  guest  to  that  unfortunate  cupboard.  When  the 
German  prince  caught  a glimpse  of  our  zoological  classifica- 
tion, he  drew  a long  face  and  quickly  turned  away.  The 
director  looked  horrified ; he  had  lost  the  power  of  speech, 
and  only  pointed  repeatedly  with  his  hand  at  some  sea  stars, 
which  were  placed  in  glass  boxes  on  the  walls  beside  the 
cupboard.  The  suite  of  the  prince  tried  to  look  as  if  they 
had  noticed  nothing,  and  only  threw  rapid  glances  at  the 
cause  of  so  much  disturbance,  while  we  wicked  boys  made 
all  sorts  of  faces  in  order  not  to  burst  with  laughter. 


VI 


The  school  years  of  a Russian  youth  are  so  different 
from  the  corresponding  period  in  west  European  schools,] 
that  I must  dwell  further  on  my  school  life.  Russian  hoys, 
as  a rule,  while  they  are  yet  at  a lyceum  or  in  a military 
school,  take  an  interest  in  a wide  circle  of  social,  political, 
and  philosophical  matters.  It  is  true  that  the  corps  of 
pages  was,  of  all  schools,  the  least  congenial  place  for  such  a 
development ; but  in  those  years  of  general  revival,  broader 
ideas  penetrated  even  there,  and  carried  some  of  us  away, 
without,  however,  preventing  us  from  taking  a very  lively 
part  in  “ benefit  nights  ” and  all  sorts  of  frolics. 

While  I was  in  the  fourth  form  I became  interested  in 
history,  and  with  the  aid  of  notes  made  during  the  lessons, 
and  helping  myself  with  reading,  I wrote  quite  a course 
of  early  mediaeval  history  for  my  own  use.  Next  year, 
the  struggle  between  Pope  Boniface  VIII.  and  the  imperial 
power  attracted  my  special  attention,  and  now  it  became 
my  ambition  to  be  admitted  to  the  Imperial  Library  as 
a reader,  to  study  that  great  struggle.  That  was  contrary 
to  the  rules  of  the  library,  pupils  of  secondary  schools  not 
being  admitted ; our  good  Herr  Becker,  however,  smoothed 
the  way  out  of  the  difficulty,  and  I was  allowed  at  last 
to  enter  the  sanctuary,  and  to  take  a seat  at  one  of  the 
readers’  small  tables,  on  one  of  the  red  velvet  sofas  which 
then  formed  a part  of  the  furniture  of  the  reading-room. 

From  various  textbooks  and  some  books  from  our  own 
library,  I soon  got  to  the  sources.  Knowing  no  Latin, 
I discovered,  nevertheless,  a rich  supply  of  original  sources 
in  Old  Teutonic  and  Old  French,  and  found  an  immense 


114 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


aesthetic  enjoyment  in  the  quaint  structure  and  expres- 
siveness of  the  Old  French  in  the  chronicles.  Quite  a 
new  structure  of  society  and  quite  a world  of  complicated 
relations  opened  before  me ; and  from  that  time  I learned 
to  value  far  more  highly  the  original  sources  of  history 
than  the  works  of  modernized  generalizations  in  which  the 
prejudices  of  modern  politics,  or  even  mere  current  for- 
mulae, are  often  substituted  for  the  real  life  of  the  period. 
Nothing  gives  more  impetus  to  one’s  intellectual  develop- 
ment than  some  sort  of  independent  research,  and  these 
studies  of  mine  afterwards  helped  me  very  much. 

Unhappily  I had  to  abandon  them  when  we  reached  the 
second  form  (the  last  but  one).  The  pages  had  to  study 
during  the  last  two  years  nearly  all  that  was  taught  in 
other  military  schools  in  three  special  forms,  and  we  had 
a vast  amount  of  work  to  do  for  the  school.  Natural 
sciences,  mathematics,  and  military  sciences  necessarily 
relegated  history  to  the  background. 

In  the  second  form  we  began  seriously  to  study  physics. 
We  had  an  excellent  teacher,  a very  intelligent  man  with 
a sarcastic  turn  of  mind,  who  hated  learning  from  memory, 
and  managed  to  make  us  think,  instead  of  merely  learn- 
ing facts.  He  was  a good  mathematician,  and  taught  us 
physics  on  a mathematical  basis,  admirably  explaining  at 
the  same  time  the  leading  ideas  of  physical  research  and 
physical  apparatus.  Some  of  his  questions  were  so  original 
and  his  explanations  so  good  that  they  engraved  themselves 
forever  in  my  memory. 

Our  textbook  of  physics  was  not  had  (most  textbooks 
for  the  military  schools  had  been  written  by  the  best  men 
at  the  time),  but  it  was  rather  old,  and  our  teacher,  who 
followed  his  own  system  in  teaching,  began  to  prepare  a short 
summary  of  his  lessons,  — a sort  of  aide-memoire.  How- 
ever, after  a few  weeks  it  so  happened  that  the  task  of 


STUDYING  THE  NATURAL  SCIENCES 


115 


writing  this  summary  fell  upon  me,  and  our  teacher,  acting 
as  a true  pedagogist,  trusted  it  entirely  to  me,  only  read- 
ing the  proofs.  When  we  came  to  the  chapters  on  heat, 
electricity,  and  magnetism,  they  had  to  be  written  entirely 
anew,  with  more  developments,  and  this  I did,  thus  pre- 
paring a nearly  complete  textbook  of  physics,  which  was 
printed  for  the  use  of  the  school. 

In  the  second  form  we  also  began  to  study  chemistry, 
and  in  this,  too,  we  had  a first-rate  teacher,  — a passionate 
lover  of  the  subject,  who  had  himself  made  valuable  original 
researches.  The  years  1859-61  were  years  of  a universal 
revival  of  taste  for  the  exact  sciences.  Grove,  Clausius, 
Joule,  and  Sbguin  showed  that  heat  and  all  physical  forces 
are  but  divers  modes  of  motion ; Helmholtz  began  about 
that  time  his  epoch-making  researches  in  sound ; Tyndall, 
in  his  popular  lectures,  made  one  touch,  so  to  say,  the 
very  atoms  and  molecules.  Gerhardt  and  Avogadro  intro- 
duced the  theory  of  substitutions,  and  Mendeleeff,  Lothar 
Meyer,  and  Newlands  discovered  the  periodical  law  of 
elements ; Darwin,  with  his  “ Origin  of  Species,”  revolu- 
tionized all  biological  sciences  ; while  Karl  Vogt  and 
Moleschott,  following  Claude  Bernard,  laid  the  foundation? 
of  true  psychology  in  physiology.  It  was  a time  of 
scientific  revival,  and  the  current  which  carried  minds 
toward  natural  science  was  irresistible.  Numbers  of  ex- 
cellent books  were  published  at  that  time  in  Russian 
translations,  and  I soon  understood  that  whatever  one’s 
subsequent  studies  might  be,  a thorough  knowledge  of  the 
natural  sciences  and  familiarity  with  their  methods  must 
lie  at  the  foundation.  Five  or  six  of  us  joined  together 
to  get  some  sort  of  laboratory  for  ourselves.  With  the 
elementary  apparatus  recommended  for  beginners  in  Stock- 
hardt’s  excellent  textbook,  we  started  our  laboratory  in 
a small  bedroom  of  two  of  our  comrades,  the  brothers 
Zasetsky.  Their  father,  an  old  admiral  in  retirement,  was 


116 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


delighted  to  see  his  sons  engaged  in  so  useful  a pursuit, 
and  did  not  object  to  our  coming  together  on  Sundays  and 
during  the  holidays  in  that  room,  by  the  side  of  his  own 
study.  With  Stockhardt’s  book  as  a guide,  we  systematic- 
ally made  all  experiments.  I must  say  that  once  we  nearly 
set  the  house  on  fire,  and  that  more  than  once  we  poisoned 
all  the  rooms  with  chlorine  and  similar  stuffs.  But  the 
old  admiral,  when  we  related  the  adventure  at  dinner  time, 
took  it  very  nicely,  and  told  us  how  he  and  his  comrades 
also  nearly  set  a house  on  fire  in  the  far  less  useful  pursuit 
of  punch  making ; while  the  mother  only  said,  amidst  her 
paroxysms  of  coughing : “ Of  course,  if  it  is  necessary  for 
your  learning  to  handle  such  nasty  smelling  things,  then 
there ’s  nothing  to  be  done  ! ” 

After  dinner  she  usually  took  her  seat  at  the  piano,  and 
till  late  at  night  we  would  go  on  singing  duets,  trios,  and 
choruses  from  the  operas.  Or  we  would  take  the  score  of 
some  Italian  or  Russian  opera  and  go  through  it  from  the 
beginning  to  the  end,  — the  mother  and  her  daughter  act- 
ing as  the  prima  donnas,  while  we  managed  more  or  less 
successfully  to  maintain  all  the  other  parts.  Chemistry 
and  music  thus  went  hand  in  hand. 

Higher  mathematics  also  absorbed  a great  deal  of  my 
time.  Several  of  us  had  already  decided  that  we  should 
not  enter  a regiment  of  the  Guard,  where  all  our  time 
would  be  given  to  military  drill  and  parades,  and  we 
intended  to  enter,  after  promotion,  one  of  the  military 
academies,  — artillery  or  engineering.  In  order  to  do  so 
we  had  to  prepare  in  higher  geometry,  differential  calculus, 
and  the  beginnings  of  integral  calculus,  and  we  took  private 
lessons  for  that  purpose.  At  the  same  time,  elementary 
astronomy  being  taught  to  us  under  the  name  of  math- 
ematical geography,  I plunged  into  astronomical  reading, 
especially  during  the  last  year  of  my  stay  at  school.  The 


A VARIETY  OF  STUDIES 


111 

never-ceasing  life  of  the  universe,  which  I conceived  as 
life  and  evolution,  became  for  me  an  inexhaustible  source 
of  higher  poetical  thought,  and  gradually  the  sense  of  Man’s 
oneness  with  Nature,  both  animate  and  inanimate  — the 
Poetry  of  Nature  — became  the  philosophy  of  my  life. 

If  the  teaching  in  our  school  had  been  limited  to  the 
subjects  I have  mentioned,  our  time  would  have  been 
pretty  well  occupied.  But  we  also  had  to  study  in  the 
domain  of  humanitarian  science,  history,  law,  — that  is, 
the  main  outlines  of  the  Russian  code,  — and  political 
economy  in  its  essential  leading  principles,  including 
a course  of  comparative  statistics ; and  we  had  to  master 
formidable  courses  of  military  science,  — tactics,  military 
history  (the  campaigns  of  1812  and  1815  in  all  their 
details),  artillery  and  field  fortification.  Looking  back 
now  upon  this  education,  I think  that  apart  from  the 
subjects  relating  to  military  warfare,  for  which  more  de- 
tailed studies  in  the  exact  sciences  might  have  been  advan- 
tageously substituted,  the  variety  of  subjects  which  we  were 
taught  was  not  beyond  the  capacity  of  the  average  youth. 
Owing  to  a pretty  good  knowledge  of  elementary  mathe- 
matics and  physics,  which  we  gained  in  the  lower  forms, 
most  of  us  managed  to  do  all  the  work.  Some  studies 
were  neglected  by  the  majority  of  us,  especially  law,  as 
also  modem  history,  for  which  we  had  unfortunately  an 
old  wreck  of  a master,  who  was  kept  at  his  post  only  in 
order  to  give  him  his  full  old-age  pension.  Moreover, 
some  latitude  was  given  us  in  the  choice  of  the  subjects 
we  liked  best,  and  while  we  underwent  severe  examina- 
tions in  these  chosen  subjects,  we  were  treated  rather  leni- 
ently in  the  remainder.  But  the  chief  cause  of  the  rela- 
tive success  which  was  obtained  in  the  school  was  that  the 
teaching  was  rendered  as  concrete  as  possible.  As  soon  as 
we  had  learned  elementary  geometry  on  paper,  we  relearned 
it  in  the  field,  with  poles  and  the  surveyor’s  chain,  and 


118 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


next  with  the  astrolabe,  the  compass,  and  the  surveyor’s 
table.  After  such  a concrete  training,  elementary  astronomy 
offered  no  difficulties,  while  the  surveys  themselves  were 
an  endless  source  of  enjoyment. 

The  same  system  of  concrete  teaching  was  applied  to 
fortification.  In  the  winter  we  solved  such  problems  as, 
for  instance,  the  following : Having  a thousand  men  and 
a fortnight  at  your  disposal,  build  the  strongest  fortification 
you  can  build,  to  protect  that  bridge  for  a retreating  army ; 
and  we  hotly  discussed  our  schemes  with  the  teacher  when 
he  criticised  them.  In  the  summer  we  applied  our  know- 
ledge in  the  field.  To  these  practical  exercises  I attribute 
the  ease  with  which  most  of  us  mastered  such  a variety 
of  scientific  subjects  at  the  age  of  seventeen  or  eighteen. 

With  all  that,  we  had  plenty  of  time  for  amusement  and 
all  sorts  of  frolics.  Our  best  time  was  when  the  exami- 
nations were  over,  and  we  had  three  or  four  weeks  quite 
free  before  going  to  camp,  or  when  we  returned  from  camp, 
and  had  another  three  weeks  free  before  the  beginning  of 
lessons.  The  few  of  us  who  remained  then  in  the  school 
were  allowed,  during  the  vacations,  to  go  out  just  as  we 
liked,  always  finding  bed  and  food  at  the  school.  I worked 
in  the  library,  or  visited  the  picture  galleries  of  the  Her- 
mitage, studying  one  by  one  all  the  best  pictures  of  each 
school  separately ; or  I went  to  the  different  Crown  manu- 
factories of  playing-cards,  cottons,  iron,  china,  and  glass 
which  are  open  to  the  public.  Sometimes  we  went  out 
rowing  on  the  Nev£,  spending  the  whole  night  on  the 
river ; sometimes  in  the  Gulf  of  Finland  with  fishermen,  — 
a melancholy  northern  night,  during  which  the  morning 
dawn  meets  the  afterglow  of  the  setting  sun,  and  a book 
can  be  read  in  the  open  air  at  midnight.  For  all  this  we 
found  plenty  of  time. 

After  my  visits  to  the  manufactories  I took  a liking  to 


INFLUENCE  OF  MUSIC 


119 


■trong  and  perfect  machinery.  Seeing  how  a gigantic  paw, 
coming  out  of  a shanty,  grasps  a log  floating  in  the  Neva, 
pulls  it  inside,  and  puts  it  under  the  saws,  which  cut  it 
into  boards  ; or  how  a huge  red-hot  iron  bar  is  transformed 
into  a rail  after  it  has  passed  between  two  cylinders,  I 
understood  the  poetry  of  machinery.  In  our  present  fac- 
tories, machinery  work  is  killing  for  the  worker,  because 
he  becomes  a lifelong  servant  to  a given  machine,  and 
never  is  anything  else.  But  this  is  a matter  of  bad  organi- 
zation, and  has  nothing  to  do  with  the  machine  itself. 
Overwork  and  lifelong  monotony  are  equally  bad  whether 
the  work  is  done  with  the  hand,  with  plain  tools,  or  with 
a machine.  But  apart  from  these,  I fully  understand  the 
pleasure  that  man  can  derive  from  a consciousness  of  the 
might  of  his  machine,  the  intelligent  character  of  its  work, 
the  gracefulness  of  its  movements,  and  the  correctness  of 
what  it  is  doing;  and  I think  that  William  Morris’s  hatred 
of  machines  only  proved  that  the  conception  of  the  ma- 
chine’s power  and  gracefulness  was  missing  in  his  great 
poetical  genius. 

Music  also  played  a very  great  part  in  my  development. 
From  it  I borrowed  even  greater  joy  and  enthusiasm  than 
from  poetry.  The  Russian  opera  hardly  existed  in  those 
times ; but  the  Italian  opera,  which  had  a number  of  first- 
rate  stars  in  it,  was  the  most  popular  institution  at  St. 
Petersburg.  When  the  prima  donna  Bosio  fell  ill,  thou- 
sands of  people,  chiefly  of  the  youth,  stood  till  late  at  night 
at  the  door  of  her  hotel  to  get  news  of  her.  She  was  not 
beautiful,  but  seemed  so  much  so  when  she  sang  that  young 
men  madly  in  love  with  her  could  be  counted  by  the  hun- 
dred ; and  when  she  died,  she  had  a burial  such  as  no  one 
had  ever  had  at  St.  Petersburg  before.  All  St.  Petersburg 
was  then  divided  into  two  camps : the  admirers  of  the 
Italian  opera,  and  those  of  the  French  stage,  which  even 
then  was  showing  in  germ  the  putrid  Offenbachian  current 


120 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


that  a few  years  later  infected  all  Europe.  Our  form  was 
also  divided,  half  and  half,  between  these  two  camps,  and 
I belonged  to  the  former.  We  were  not  permitted  to  go 
to  the  pit  or  to  the  balcony,  while  all  the  boxes  in  the 
Italian  opera  were  always  taken  months  in  advance,  by 
subscription,  and  even  transmitted  in  certain  families  as  an 
hereditary  possession.  But  we  gained  admission,  on  Satur- 
day nights,  to  the  passages  in  the  uppermost  gallery,  and 
had  to  stand  there  in  a Turkish  bath  atmosphere,  while  to 
conceal  our  showy  uniforms  we  used  to  wear  our  black 
overcoats,  lined  with  wadding  and  with  a fur  collar,  tightly 
buttoned  in  spite  of  the  heat.  It  is  a wonder  that  none 
of  us  got  pneumonia  in  this  way,  especially  as  we  came 
out  overheated  with  the  ovations  which  we  used  to  make 
to  our  favorite  singers,  and  stood  afterwards  at  the  stage 
door  to  catch  one  more  glimpse  of  our  favorites,  and  to 
cheer  them.  The  Italian  opera,  in  those  years,  was  in 
some  strange  way  intimately  connected  with  the  radical 
movement,  and  the  revolutionary  recitatives  in  “ Wilhelm 
Tell  ” and  “ The  Puritans  ” were  always  met  with  stormy 
applause  and  vociferations  which  went  straight  to  the  heart 
of  Alexander  II. ; while  in  the  sixth-story  galleries,  and  in 
the  smoking-room  of  the  opera,  and  at  the  stage  door  the 
best  part  of  the  St.  Petersburg  youth  came  together  in  a 
common  idealist  worship  of  a noble  art.  All  this  may 
seem  childish ; but  many  higher  ideas  and  pure  inspirations 
were  kindled  in  us  by  this  worship  of  our  favorite  artists. 


VII 


Every  summer  we  went  out  camping  at  Peterhof,  with 
the  other  military  schools  of  the  St.  Petersburg  district. 
On  the  whole,  our  life  there  was  very  pleasant,  and  cer- 
tainly it  was  excellent  for  our  health : we  slept  in  spacious 
tents,  bathed  in  the  sea,  and  spent  a great  deal  of  time 
during  the  six  weeks  in  open-air  exercise. 

In  military  schools  the  main  purpose  of  camp  life  was 
evidently  military  drill,  which  we  all  disliked  very  much, 
but  the  dullness  of  which  was  occasionally  relieved  by  mak- 
ing us  take  part  in  manoeuvres.  One  night,  as  we  were 
going  to  bed,  Alexander  II.  aroused  the  whole  camp  by 
having  the  alert  sounded.  In  a few  minutes  all  the  camp 
was  alive,  — several  thousand  boys  gathering  round  their 
colors,  and  the  guns  of  the  artillery  school  booming  in  the 
stillness  of  the  night.  All  military  Peterhof  came  gallop- 
ing to  the  camp,  but  owing  to  some  misunderstanding  the 
Emperor  remained  on  foot.  Orderlies  hurried  in  all  direc- 
tions to  get  a horse  for  him,  but  there  was  none,  and  not 
being  a good  rider,  he  would  not  ride  any  horse  but  one 
of  his  own.  He  was  very  angry,  and  freely  gave  vent  to 
his  anger.  “ Imbecile  ( durak ),  have  I only  one  horse  ? ” 
I heard  him  shout  to  an  orderly  who  reported  that  his 
horse  was  in  another  camp. 

With  the  coming  darkness,  the  booming  of  the  guns,  and 
the  rattling  of  the  cavalry,  we  boys  grew  very  much  ex- 
cited, and  when  Alexander  ordered  a charge,  our  column 
charged  straight  upon  him.  Tightly  packed  in  the  ranks, 
with  lowered  bayonets,  we  must  have  had  a menacing  as- 
pect ; and  I saw  the  Emperor,  who  was  still  on  foot,  clearing 


122 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


the  way  for  the  column  in  three  formidable  jumps.  I 
understood  then  the  meaning  of  a column  which  marches 
in  serried  ranks  under  the  excitement  of  the  music  and  the 
march  itself.  There  stood  before  us  the  Emperor,  our  com- 
mander, whom  we  all  venerated ; but  I felt  that  in  this 
moving  mass  not  one  page  or  cadet  would  have  moved  an 
inch  aside  or  stopped  to  make  room  for  him.  We  were 
the  marching  column,  he  was  but  an  obstacle,  and  the 
column  would  have  marched  over  him.  “ Why  should  he 
be  in  our  way  ? ” the  pages  said  afterward.  Boys,  rifle  in 
hand,  are  even  more  terrible  in  such  cases  than  old  soldiers. 

Next  year,  when  we  took  part  in  the  great  manoeuvres 
of  the  St.  Petersburg  garrison,  I saw  some  of  the  sidelights 
of  warfare.  Eor  two  days  in  succession  we  did  nothing 
but  march  up  and  down  in  a space  of  about  twenty  miles, 
without  having  the  slightest  idea  of  what  was  going  on 
round  us,  or  for  what  purpose  we  were  marched.  Cannon 
boomed  now  in  our  neighborhood  and  now  far  away  ; sharp 
musketry  fire  was  heard  somewhere  in  the  hills  and  the 
woods ; orderlies  galloped  up  and  down,  bringing  an  order 
to  advance  and  next  an  order  to  retreat ; and  we  marched, 
marched,  and  marched,  seeing  no  sense  in  all  these  move- 
ments and  counter  movements.  Masses  of  cavalry  had 
passed  along  the  same  road,  making  it  a deep  bed  of 
movable  sand,  and  we  had  to  advance  and  retreat  several 
times  over  the  same  ground,  till  at  last  our  column  broke  all 
discipline  and  became  an  incoherent  mass  of  pilgrims  rather 
than  a military  unit.  The  color  guard  alone  remained  in 
the  road  ; the  remainder  slowly  paced  along  the  sides  of  the 
road  in  the  wood.  The  orders  and  the  supplications  of  the 
officers  were  of  no  avail. 

Suddenly  a shout  came  from  behind  : “ The  Emperor  is 
coming  ! The  Emperor  ! ” The  officers  ran  about,  begging 
us  to  form  ranks : nobody  listened  to  them. 

The  Emperor  came,  and  ordered  a retreat  once  more. 


PRACTICAL  WORK  IN  SURVEYING 


123 


w About ! ” the  word  of  command  rang  out.  “ The  Em- 
peror is  behind  us  ; please  turn  round,”  the  officers  whis- 
pered ; but  the  battalion  took  hardly  any  notice  of  the 
command,  and  none  whatever  of  the  presence  of  the  Em- 
peror. Happily,  Alexander  II.  was  no  fanatic  of  militarism, 
and  after  having  said  a few  words  to  cheer  us,  with  a pro- 
mise of  rest,  he  galloped  off. 

I understood  then  how  much  depends  in  warfare  upon 
the  state  of  mind  of  the  troops,  and  how  little  can  be  done 
by  mere  discipline  when  more  than  an  average  effort  is  re- 
quired from  the  soldiers.  What  can  discipline  do  when 
tired  troops  have  to  make  a supreme  effort  to  reach  the 
field  of  battle  at  a given  hour ! It  is  absolutely  powerless ; 
only  enthusiasm  and  confidence  can  at  such  moments  in- 
duce the  soldiers  to  do  “ the  impossible,”  and  it  is  the 
impossible  that  continually  must  be  accomplished  to  secure 
success.  How  often  I recalled  to  memory  that  object  les- 
son later  on,  in  Siberia,  when  we  also  had  to  do  “ the 
impossible  ” during  our  scientific  expeditions ! 

Comparatively  little  of  our  time,  however,  during  our 
stay  in  the  camp  was  given  to  military  drill  and  manoeu- 
vres. A good  deal  of  it  was  employed  in  practical  work  in 
surveying  and  fortification.  After  a few  preliminary  exer- 
cises we  were  given  a reflecting  compass  and  told,  “ Go 
and  make  a plan  of,  say,  this  lake,  or  those  roads,  or  that 
park,  measuring  the  angles  with  the  compass  and  the  dis- 
tances by  pacing.”  Early  in  the  morning,  after  a hurriedly 
swallowed  breakfast,  a boy  would  fill  bis  capacious  military 
pockets  with  slices  of  rye  bread,  and  would  go  out  for  four 
or  five  hours  in  the  parks,  miles  away,  mapping  with  his 
compass  and  paces  the  beautiful  shady  roads,  the  rivulets, 
and  the  lakes.  His  work  was  afterward  compared  with 
accurate  maps,  and  prizes  in  optical  and  drawing  instru- 
ments, at  the  boy’s  choice,  were  awarded.  For  me,  these 


124 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


surveys  were  a deep  source  of  enjoyment.  The  independ- 
ent work,  the  isolation  under  the  centuries-old  trees,  the 
life  of  the  forest  which  I could  enjoy  undisturbed,  while 
there  was  at  the  same  time  the  interest  in  the  work,  — all 
these  left  deep  traces  on  my  mind ; and  when  I became  an 
explorer  of  Siberia,  and  several  of  my  comrades  became 
explorers  of  central  Asia,  these  surveys  were  found  to  have 
been  an  excellent  preparation. 

Finally,  in  the  last  form,  parties  of  four  boys  were  taken 
every  second  day  to  some  villages  at  a considerable  dis- 
tance from  the  camp,  and  there  they  had  to  make  a detailed 
survey  of  several  square  miles,  with  the  aid  of  the  survey- 
or’s table  and  a telescopic  ruler.  Officers  of  the  general 
staff  came  from  time  to  time  to  verify  their  work  and  to 
advise  them.  This  life  amid  the  peasants  in  the  villages 
had  the  best  effect  upon  the  intellectual  and  moral  develop- 
ment of  the  boys. 

At  the  same  time  there  were  exercises  in  the  construc- 
tion of  natural  size  cross-sections  of  fortifications.  We 
were  taken  out  by  an  officer  into  the  open  field,  and  there 
we  had  to  make  the  profile  of  a bastion,  or  of  a complicated 
bridge  head,  nailing  battens  and  poles  together  in  exactly 
the  same  way  as  railway  engineers  do  in  tracing  a railway. 
When  it  came  to  embrasures  and  barbettes,  we  had  to 
calculate  a great  deal  in  order  to  obtain  the  inclinations  of 
the  different  planes,  and  after  that  geometry  ceased  to  be 
difficult  to  understand. 

We  delighted  in  such  work,  and  once,  in  town,  finding 
in  our  garden  a heap  of  clay  and  gravel,  we  began  to  build 
a real  fortification  on  a reduced  scale,  with  well  calculated 
straight  and  oblique  embrasures  and  barbettes.  All  was 
done  very  neatly,  and  our  ambition  now  was  to  obtain 
some  planks  for  making  the  platforms  for  the  guns,  and  to 
place  upon  them  the  model  guns  which  we  had  in  our  class- 
rooms. But,  alas ! our  trousers  wore  an  alarming  aspect. 


A HINT  TO  EDUCATORS 


125 


“ What  are  you  doing  there  ? ” our  captain  exclaimed. 
u Look  at  yourselves  ! You  look  like  navvies  ” (that  was 
exactly  what  we  were  proud  of).  “What  if  the  grand 
duke  comes  and  finds  you  in  such  a state ! ” 

tc  We  will  show  him  our  fortification  and  ask  him  to  get 
us  tools  and  boards  for  the  platforms.” 

All  protests  were  vain.  A dozen  workmen  were  sent 
next  day  to  cart  away  our  beautiful  structure  as  if  it  were 
a mere  heap  of  mud  ! 

I mention  this  to  show  how  children  and  youths  long 
for  the  application  of  what  they  learn  at  school  in  the 
abstract,  and  how  stupid  are  the  educators  who  are  unable 
to  see  what  a powerful  aid  they  could  find  in  this  direction 
for  helping  their  pupils  to  grasp  the  real  sense  of  the  things 
they  learn.  In  our  school,  all  was  directed  towards  train- 
ing us  for  warfare  ; we  should  have  worked  with  the  same 
enthusiasm,  however,  at  laying  out  a railway,  at  building 
a log  house,  or  at  cultivating  a garden  or  a field.  But  all 
this  longing  of  children  and  youths  for  real  work  is  wasted 
simply  because  our  idea  of  the  school  is  still  the  mediaeval 
scholasticism,  the  mediaeval  monastery  1 


vnt 


The  years  1857-61  were  years  of  rich  growth  in  the 
intellectual  forces  of  Russia.  All  that  had  been  whispered 
for  the  last  decade,  in  the  secrecy  of  friendly  meetings,  by 
the  generation  represented  in  Russian  literature  by  Tur- 
gueneff,  Tolstdy,  Hdrzen,  Bakunin,  Ogarydff,  Kavelin,  Dos- 
toevsky, Grigorovich,  Ostrdvsky,  and  Nekrasoff,  began  now 
to  leak  out  in  the  press.  Censorship  was  still  very  rigor- 
ous ; but  what  could  not  be  said  openly  in  political  articles 
was  smuggled  in  under  the  form  of  novels,  humorous 
sketches,  or  veiled  comments  on  west  European  events,  and 
every  one  read  between  the  lines  and  understood. 

Having  no  acquaintances  at  St.  Petersburg  apart  from  the 
school  and  a narrow  circle  of  relatives,  I stood  outside  the 
radical  movement  of  those  years,  — miles,  in  fact,  away  from 
it.  And  yet,  this  was,  perhaps,  the  main  feature  of  the 
movement,  — that  it  had  the  power  to  penetrate  into  so 
•'*  well  meaning  ” a school  as  our  corps  was,  and  to  find  an 
echo  in  such  a circle  as  that  of  my  Moscow  relatives. 

I used  at  that  time  to  spend  my  Sundays  and  holidays 
at  the  house  of  my  aunt,  mentioned  in  a previous  chapter 
under  the  name  of  Princess  Mfrski.  Prince  Mirski  thought 
only  of  extraordinary  lunches  and  dinners,  while  his  wife 
and  their  young  daughter  led  a very  gay  life.  My  cousin 
was  a beautiful  girl  of  nineteen,  of  a most  amiable  disposi- 
tion, and  nearly  all  her  male  cousins  were  madly  in  love 
with  her.  She,  in  turn,  fell  in  love  with  one  of  them, 
and  wanted  to  marry  him.  But  to  marry  a cousin  is 
considered  a great  sin  by  the  Russian  Church,  and  the  old 
princess  tried  in  vain  to  obtain  a special  permission  from 


SPREAD  OF  REVOLUTIONARY  IDEAS 


127 


the  high  ecclesiastical  dignitaries.  Now  she  brought  her 
daughter  to  St.  Petersburg,  hoping  that  she  might  choose 
among  her  many  admirers  a more  suitable  husband  than  her 
own  cousin.  It  was  labor  lost,  I must  add ; but  their  fash- 
ionable apartment  was  full  of  brilliant  young  men  from  the 
Guards  and  from  the  diplomatic  service. 

Such  a house  would  be  the  last  to  be  thought  of  in  con- 
nection with  revolutionary  ideas ; and  yet  it  was  in  that 
house  that  I made  my  first  acquaintance  with  the  revolution- 
ary literature  of  the  times.  The  great  refugee,  Herzen,  had 
just  begun  to  issue  at  London  his  review,  “ The  Polar  Star,” 
which  made  a commotion  in  Russia,  even  in  the  palace 
circles,  and  was  widely  circulated  secretly  at  St.  Petersburg. 
My  cousin  got  it  in  some  way,  and  we  used  to  read  it 
together.  Her  heart  revolted  against  the  obstacles  which 
were  put  in  the  way  of  her  happiness,  and  her  mind  was 
the  more  open  to  the  powerful  criticisms  which  the  great 
writer  launched  against  the  Russian  autocracy  and  all  the 
rotten  system  of  misgovernment.  With  a feeling  near  to 
worship  I used  to  look  on  the  medallion  which  was  printed 
on  the  paper  cover  of  “ The  Polar  Star,”  and  which  repre- 
sented the  noble  heads  of  the  five  “ Decembrists  ” whom 
Nicholas  I.  had  hanged  after  the  rebellion  of  December  14, 
1825,  — Bestuzheff,  Kahdvskiy,  Pestel,  Ryleeff,  and  Mu- 
ravidv-Apdstol. 

The  beauty  of  the  style  of  Herzen,  — of  whom  Turgue- 
neff  has  truly  said  that  he  wrote  in  tears  and  blood,  and 
that  no  other  Russian  had  ever  so  written,  — the  breadth  of 
his  ideas,  and  his  deep  love  of  Russia  took  possession  of 
me,  and  I used  to  read  and  re-read  those  pages,  even  more 
full  of  heart  than  of  brain. 

In  1859,  or  early  in  1860,  I began  to  edit  my  first  revo- 
lutionary paper.  At  that  age,  what  could  I be  but  a con- 
stitutionalist ? — and  my  paper  advocated  the  necessity 
of  a constitution  for  Russia.  I wrote  about  the  foolish 


128 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


expenses  of  the  court,  the  sums  of  money  which  were  spent 
at  Nice  to  keep  quite  a squadron  of  the  navy  in  attendance 
on  the  Dowager-Empress,  who  died  in  1860  ; I mentioned 
the  misdeeds  of  the  functionaries  which  I continually  heard 
spoken  of,  and  I urged  the  necessity  of  constitutional  rule. 
I wrote  three  copies  of  my  paper,  and  slipped  them  into 
the  desks  of  three  comrades  of  the  higher  forms,  who,  I 
thought,  might  be  interested  in  public  affairs.  I asked  my 
readers  to  put  their  remarks  behind  the  Scotch  clock  in  our 
library. 

With  a throbbing  heart,  I went  next  day  to  see  if  there 
was  something  for  me  behind  the  clock.  Two  notes  were 
there,  indeed.  Two  comrades  wrote  that  they  fully  sym- 
pathized with  my  paper,  and  only  advised  me  not  to  risk 
too  much.  I wrote  my  second  number,  still  more  vigor- 
ously insisting  upon  the  necessity  of  uniting  all  forces  in 
the  name  of  liberty.  But  this  time  there  was  no  reply 
behind  the  clock.  Instead  the  two  comrades  came  to  me. 

“ We  are  sure,”  they  said,  “ that  it  is  you  who  edit  the 
paper,  and  we  want  to  talk  about  it.  We  are  quite  agreed 
with  you,  and  we  are  here  to  say,  ‘ Let  us  be  friends.’ 
Your  paper  has  done  its  work,  — it  has  brought  us  together  ; 
but  there  is  no  need  to  continue  it.  In  all  the  school  there 
are  only  two  more  who  would  take  any  interest  in  such  mat- 
ters, while  if  it  becomes  known  that  there  is  a paper  of  this 
kind,  the  consequences  will  be  terrible  for  all  of  us.  Let 
us  constitute  a circle  and  talk  about  everything  ; perhaps 
we  shall  put  something  into  the  heads  of  a few  others.” 

This  was  so  sensible  that  I could  only  agree,  and  we 
sealed  our  union  by  a hearty  shaking  of  hands.  From 
that  time  we  three  became  firm  friends,  and  used  to  read  a 
great  deal  together  and  discuss  all  sorts  of  things. 

The  abolition  of  serfdom  was  the  question  which  then 
engrossed  the  attention  of  all  thinking  men. 


FIRST  STEPS  TOWARD  EMANCIPATION 


129 


The  revolution  of  1848  had  had  its  distant  echo  in  the 
hearts  of  the  Russian  peasant  folk,  and  from  the  year  1850 
the  insurrections  of  revolted  serfs  began  to  take  serious  pro- 
portions. When  the  Crimean  war  broke  out,  and  militia 
was  levied  all  over  Russia,  these  revolts  spread  with  a 
violence  never  before  heard  of.  Several  serf-owners  were 
killed  by  their  serfs,  and  the  peasant  uprisings  became  so 
serious  that  whole  regiments,  with  artillery,  were  sent  to 
quell  them,  whereas  in  former  times  small  detachments  of 
soldiers  would  have  been  sufficient  to  terrorize  the  peasants 
into  obedience. 

These  outbreaks  on  the  one  side,  and  the  profound 
aversion  to  serfdom  which  had  grown  up  in  the  generation 
which  came  to  the  front  with  the  advent  of  Alexander  II. 
to  the  throne,  rendered  the  emancipation  of  the  peasants 
more  and  more  imperative.  The  Emperor,  himself  averse 
to  serfdom,  and  supported,  or  rather  influenced,  in  his  own 
family  by  his  wife,  his  brother  Constantine,  and  the  Grand 
Duchess  Helene  Pdvlovna,  took  the  first  steps  in  that  direc- 
tion. His  intention  was  that  the  initiative  of  the  reform 
should  come  from  the  nobility,  the  serf-owners  themselves. 
But  in  no  province  of  Russia  could  the  nobility  be  induced 
to  send  a petition  to  the  Tsar  to  that  effect.  In  March, 
1856,  he  himself  addressed  the  Moscow  nobility  on  the 
necessity  of  such  a step  ; but  a stubborn  silence  was  all  their 
reply  to  his  speech,  so  that  Alexander  II.,  growing  quite 
angry,  concluded  with  those  memorable  words  of  Hdrzen  : 
“ It  is  better,  gentlemen,  that  it  should  come  from  above 
than  to  wait  till  it  comes  from  beneath.”  Even  these  words 
had  no  effect,  and  it  was  to  the  provinces  of  Old  Poland,  — 
Grodno,  Wilno,  and  Kovno,  — where  Napoleon  I.  had 
abolished  serfdom  (on  paper)  in  1812,  that  recourse  was  had. 
The  governor-general  of  those  provinces,  Nazimoff,  managed 
to  obtain  the  desired  address  from  the  Polish  nobility.  In 
November,  1857,  the  famous  “ rescript  ” to  the  governor* 


130 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


general  of  the  Lithuanian  provinces,  announcing  the  inten. 
tion  of  the  Emperor  to  abolish  serfdom,  was  launched,  and 
we  read,  with  tears  in  our  eyes,  the  beautiful  article  of 
Herzen,  “ Thou  hast  conquered,  Galilean,”  in  which  the 
refugees  at  London  declared  that  they  would  no  more  look 
upon  Alexander  II.  as  an  enemy,  but  would  support  him  in 
the  great  work  of  emancipation. 

The  attitude  of  the  peasants  was  very  remarkable.  No 
sooner  had  the  news  spread  that  the  liberation  long  sighed 
for  was  coming  than  the  insurrections  nearly  stopped.  The 
peasants  waited  now,  and  during  a journey  which  Alexander 
made  in  Middle  Russia  they  flocked  around  him  as  he 
passed,  beseeching  him  to  grant  them  liberty,  — a petition, 
however,  which  Alexander  received  with  great  repugnance. 
It  is  most  remarkable  — so  strong  is  the  force  of  tradition 
— that  the  rumor  went  among  the  peasants  that  it  was 
Napoleon  III.  who  had  required  of  the  Tsar,  in  the  treaty 
of  peace,  that  the  peasants  should  be  freed.  I frequently 
heard  this  rumor ; and  on  the  very  eve  of  the  emancipa- 
tion they  seemed  to  doubt  that  it  would  be  done  without 
pressure  from  abroad.  “ Nothing  will  be  done  unless  Gari- 
baldi comes,”  was  the  reply  which  a peasant  made  at  St. 
Petersburg  to  a comrade  of  mine  who  talked  to  him  about 
“ freedom  coming.” 

But  after  these  moments  of  general  rejoicing  years  of  in- 
certitude and  disquiet  followed.  Specially  appointed  com- 
mittees in  the  provinces  and  at  St.  Petersburg  discussed 
the  proposed  liberation  of  the  serfs,  but  the  intentions  of 
Alexander  II.  seemed  unsettled.  A check  was  continually 
put  upon  the  press,  in  order  to  prevent  it  from  discussing 
details.  Sinister  rumors  circulated  at  St.  Petersburg  and 
reached  our  corps. 

There  was  no  lack  of  young  men  amongst  the  nobility 
who  earnestly  worked  for  a frank  abolition  of  the  old  ser- 
vitude j but  the  serfdom  party  drew  closer  and  closer  round 


EMANCIPATION  WIDELY  DISCUSSED 


131 


the  Emperor,  and  got  power  over  his  mind.  They  whis 
pered  into  his  ears  that  the  day  serfdom  was  abolished  tin 
peasants  would  begin  to  kill  the  landlords  wholesale,  and 
Russia  would  witness  a new  Pugachoff  uprising,  far  more 
terrible  than  that  of  1773.  Alexander,  who  was  a man  of 
weak  character,  only  too  readily  lent  his  ear  to  such  predic- 
tions. But  the  huge  machine  for  working  out  the  emanci- 
pation law  had  been  set  to  work.  The  committees  had 
their  sittings ; scores  of  schemes  of  emancipation,  addressed 
to  the  Emperor,  circulated  in  manuscript  or  were  printed  at 
London.  Herzen,  seconded  by  Turgueneff,  who  kept  him 
well  informed  about  all  that  was  going  on  in  government 
circles,  discussed  in  his  “ Bell  ” and  his  “ Polar  Star  ” the 
details  of  the  various  schemes,  and  Chernyshdvsky  in  the 
11  Contemporary  ” ( Sovremennik ).  The  Slavophiles,  espe- 
cially Aksdkoff  and  Belyaeff,  had  taken  advantage  of  the 
first  moments  of  relative  freedom  allowed  the  press  to  give 
the  matter  a wide  publicity  in  Russia,  and  to  discuss  the 
features  of  the  emancipation  with  a thorough  understanding 
of  its  technical  aspects.  All  intellectual  St.  Petersburg 
was  with  Herzen,  and  particularly  with  Chernyshdvsky,  and 
I remember  how  the  officers  of  the  Horse  Guards,  whom  I 
saw  on  Sundays,  after  the  church  parade,  at  the  home  of 
my  cousin  (Dmitri  Nikolaevich  Kropotkin,  who  was  aide- 
de-camp  of  that  regiment  and  aide-de-camp  of  the  Emperor), 
used  to  side  with  Chernyshevsky,  the  leader  of  the  advanced 
party  in  the  emancipation  struggle.  The  whole  disposition 
of  St.  Petersburg,  in  the  drawing-rooms  and  in  the  street 
was  such  that  it  was  impossible  to  go  back.  The  liberation 
of  the  serfs  had  to  be  accomplished ; and  another  impor- 
tant point  was  won,  — the  liberated  serfs  would  receive, 
besides  their  homesteads,  the  land  that  they  had  hitherto 
cultivated  for  themselves. 

However,  the  party  of  the  old  nobility  were  not  discour- 
aged. They  centred  their  efforts  on  obtaining  a postpone* 


132 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


ment  of  the  reform,  on  reducing  the  size  of  the  allotments, 
and  on  imposing  upon  the  emancipated  serfs  so  high  a re- 
demption tax  for  the  land  that  it  would  render  their  econom- 
ical freedom  illusory ; and  in  this  they  fully  succeeded. 
Alexander  II.  dismissed  the  real  soul  of  the  whole  business, 
Nicholas  Milutin  (brother  of  the  minister  of  wfer),  saying 
to  him,  “ I am  so  sorry  to  part  with  you,  but  I must : the 
nobility  describe  you  as  one  of  the  Reds.”  The  first  com- 
mittees, which  had  worked  out  the  scheme  of  emancipation, 
were  dismissed,  too,  and  new  committees  revised  the  whole 
work  in  the  interest  of  the  serf-owners  ; the  press  was  muz- 
zled once  more. 

Things  assumed  a very  gloomy  aspect.  The  question 
whether  the  liberation  would  take  place  at  all  was  now 
asked.  I feverishly  followed  the  struggle,  and  every  Sun- 
day, when  my  comrades  returned  from  their  homes,  I asked 
them  what  their  parents  said.  By  the  end  of  1860  the 
news  became  worse  and  worse.  “ The  Valueff  party  has 
got  the  upper  hand.”  “ They  intend  to  revise  the  whole 
work.”  “ The  relatives  of  the  Princess  X.  [a  friend  of  the 
Tsar]  work  hard  upon  him.”  “ The  liberation  will  be 
postponed  : they  fear  a revolution.” 

In  January,  1861,  slightly  better  rumors  began  to  circu- 
late, and  it  was  generally  hoped  that  something  would  be 
heard  of  the  emancipation  on  the  day  of  the  Emperor’s 
accession  to  the  throne,  the  19th  of  February. 

The  19th  came,  but  it  brought  nothing  with  it.  I was 
on  that  day  at  the  palace.  There  was  no  grand  levee,  only 
a small  one  ; and  pages  of  the  second  form  were  sent  to  such 
levees  in  order  to  get  accustomed  to  the  palace  ways.  It 
was  my  turn  that  day ; and  as  I was  seeing  off  one  of  the 
grand  duchesses  who  came  to  the  palace  to  assist  at  the 
mass,  her  husband  did  not  appear,  and  I went  to  fetch  him. 
He  was  called  out  of  the  Emperor’s  study,  and  I told  him, 


THE  EMANCIPATION  MANIFESTO 


135 


in  a half  jocose  way,  of  the  perplexity  of  his  wife,  without 
having  the  slightest  suspicion  of  the  important  matters  that 
may  have  been  talked  of  in  the  study  at  that  time.  Apart 
from  a few  of  the  initiated,  no  one  in  the  palace  suspected 
that  the  manifesto  had  been  signed  on  the  19th  of  February, 
and  was  kept  back  for  a fortnight  only  because  the  next 
Sunday,  the  26th,  was  the  beginning  of  the  carnival  week, 
and  it  was  feared  that,  owing  to  the  drinking  which  goes 
on  in  the  villages  during  the  carnival,  peasant  insurrections 
might  break  out.  Even  the  carnival  fair,  which  used  to  be 
held  at  St.  Petersburg  on  the  square  near  the  winter  palace, 
was  removed  that  year  to  another  square,  from  fear  of  a 
popular  insurrection  in  the  capital.  Most  terrible  instruc- 
tions had  been  issued  to  the  army  as  to  the  ways  of  repress- 
ing peasant  uprisings. 

A fortnight  later,  on  the  last  Sunday  of  the  carnival 
(March  5,  or  rather  March  17,  New  Style),  I was  at  the 
corps,  having  to  take  part  in  the  military  parade  at  the  rid* 
ing-school.  I was  still  in  bed,  when  my  soldier  servant, 
Iv&noff,  dashed  in  with  the  tea  tray,  exclaiming,  “ Prince, 
freedom  ! The  manifesto  is  posted  on  the  Gostinoi  Dvor !' 
(the  shops  opposite  the  corps). 

“Did  you  see  it  yourself?  ” 

“ Yes.  People  stand  round  ; one  reads,  the  others  listen 
It  is  freedom  ! ” 

In  a couple  of  minutes  I was  dressed,  and  out.  A com  • 
rade  was  coming  in. 

“ Kropdtkin,  freedom  ! ” he  shouted.  “ Here  is  the 
manifesto.  My  uncle  learned  last  night  that  it  would  be 
read  at  the  early  mass  at  the  Isaac  Cathedral ; so  we  went. 
There  were  not  many  people  there ; peasants  only.  The 
manifesto  was  read  and  distributed  after  the  mass.  They 
well  understood  what  it  meant.  When  I came  out  of  the 
church,  two  peasants,  who  stood  in  the  gateway,  said  to  me 
in  such  a droll  way,  ‘ Well,  sir  ? now  — all  gone  ? * n 


134 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


And  he  mimicked  how  they  had  shown  him  the  way  out 
Years  of  expectation  were  in  that  gesture  of  sending  away 
the  master. 

I read  and  re-read  the  manifesto.  It  was  written  in  an 
elevated  style  by  the  old  Metropolitan  of  Moscow,  Phila- 
rete,  but  with  a useless  mixture  of  Russian  and  Old  Sla- 
vonian which  obscured  the  sense.  It  was  liberty ; but  it 
was  not  liberty  yet,  the  peasants  having  to  remain  serfs  for 
two  years  more,  till  the  19th  of  February,  1863.  Not- 
withstanding all  this,  one  thing  was  evident : serfdom  was 
abolished,  and  the  liberated  serfs  would  get  the  land  and 
their  homesteads.  They  would  have  to  pay  for  it,  but  the 
old  stain  of  slavery  was  removed.  They  would  be  slaves 
no  more ; the  reaction  had  not  got  the  upper  hand. 

We  went  to  the  parade  ; and  when  all  the  military 
performances  were  over,  Alexander  II.,  remaining  on  horse- 
back, loudly  called  out,  “The  officers  to  me!  ” They  gath- 
ered round  him,  and  he  began,  in  a loud  voice,  a speech 
about  the  great  event  of  the  day. 

“ The  officers  . . . the  representatives  of  the  nobility 
in  the  army  ” — these  scraps  of  sentences  reached  our 
ears  — “an  end  has  been  put  to  centuries  of  injustice  ...  I 
expect  sacrifices  from  the  nobility  . . . the  loyal  nobility 
will  gather  round  the  throne  ”...  and  so  on.  Enthusi- 
astic hurrahs  resounded  amongst  the  officers  as  he  ended. 

We  ran  rather  than  marched  back  on  our  way  to  the 
corps,  — hurrying  to  be  in  time  for  the  Italian  opera,  of 
which  the  last  performance  in  the  season  was  to  be  given 
that  afternoon  ; some  manifestation  was  sure  to  take  place 
then.  Our  military  attire  was  flung  off  with  great  haste, 
and  several  of  us  dashed,  lightfooted,  to  the  sixth-story 
gallery.  The  house  was  crowded. 

During  the  first  entr’acte  the  smoking-room  of  the  opera 
filled  with  excited  young  men,  who  all  talked  to  one  an- 
other, whether  acquainted  or  not.  We  planned  at  once  to 


V 


ENTHUSIASM  OF  THE  PEOPLE  185 

return  to  the  hall,  and  to  sing,  with  the  whole  public  in 
a mass  choir,  the  hymn  “ God  Save  the  Tsar.” 

However,  sounds  of  music  reached  our  ears,  and  we  all 
hurried  back  to  the  hall.  The  band  of  the  opera  was 
already  playing  the  hymn,  which  was  drowned  immediately 
in  enthusiastic  hurrahs  coming  from  all  parts  of  the  hall. 
I saw  Baveri,  the  conductor  of  the  band,  waving  his  stick, 
but  not  a sound  could  be  heard  from  the  powerful  band. 
Then  Baveri  stopped,  hut  the  hurrahs  continued.  I saw 
the  stick  waved  again  in  the  air;  I saw  the  fiddle-bows 
moving,  and  musicians  blowing  the  brass  instruments,  hut 
again  the  sound  of  voices  overwhelmed  the  band.  Baveri 
began  conducting  the  hymn  once  more,  and  it  was  only  by 
the  end  of  that  third  repetition  that  isolated  sounds  of  the 
brass  instruments  pierced  through  the  clamor  of  human 
voices. 

The  same  enthusiasm  was  in  the  streets.  Crowds  of 
peasants  and  educated  men  stood  in  front  of  the  palace, 
shouting  hurrahs,  and  the  Tsar  could  not  appear  without 
being  followed  by  demonstrative  crowds  running  after  his 
carriage.  Herzen  was  right  when,  two  years  later,  as  Alex- 
ander was  drowning  the  Polish  insurrection  in  blood,  and 
“ Muravioff  the  Hanger  ” was  strangling  it  on  the  scaffold, 
he  wrote,  “ Alexander  Nikolaevich,  why  did  you  not  die 
on  that  day?  Your  name  would  have  been  transmitted 
in  history  as  that  of  a hero.” 

Where  were  the  uprisings  which  had  been  predicted  by 
the  champions  of  slavery  ? Conditions  more  indefinite 
than  those  which  had  been  created  by  the  Polozh^nie  (the 
emancipation  law)  could  not  have  been  invented.  If  any- 
thing could  have  provoked  revolts,  it  was  precisely  the 
perplexing  vagueness  of  the  conditions  created  by  the  new 
law.  And  yet,  except  in  two  places  where  there  were 
insurrections,  and  a very  few  other  spots  where  small  di» 


136 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


turbances  entirely  due  to  misunderstandings  and  immediately 
appeased  took  place,  Russia  remained  quiet,  — more  quiet 
than  ever.  With  their  usual  good  sense,  the  peasants  had 
understood  that  serfdom  was  done  away  with,  that  “ free- 
dom had  come,”  and  they  accepted  the  conditions  imposed 
upon  them,  although  these  conditions  were  very  heavy. 

I was  in  Nikdlskoye  in  August,  1861,  and  again  in  the 
summer  of  1862,  and  I was  struck  with  the  quiet,  intelli- 
gent way  in  which  the  peasants  had  accepted  the  new 
conditions.  They  knew  perfectly  well  how  difficult  it 
would  be  to  pay  the  redemption  tax  for  the  land,  which 
was  in  reality  an  indemnity  to  the  nobles  in  lieu  of  the 
obligations  of  serfdom.  But  they  so  much  valued  the 
abolition  of  their  personal  enslavement  that  they  accepted 
the  ruinous  charges  — not  without  murmuring,  but  as  a hard 
necessity  — the  moment  that  personal  freedom  was  obtained. 
For  the  first  months  they  kept  two  holidays  a week,  saying 
that  it  was  a sin  to  work  on  Friday ; but  when  the  summer 
came  they  resumed  work  with  even  more  energy  than 
before. 

When  I saw  our  Nikolskoye  peasants,  fifteen  months 
after  the  liberation,  I could  not  but  admire  them.  Their 
inborn  good  nature  and  softness  remained  with  them,  but 
all  traces  of  servility  had  disappeared.  They  talked  to 
their  masters  as  equals  talk  to  equals,  as  if  they  never  had 
stood  in  different  relations.  Besides,  such  men  came  out 
from  among  them  as  could  make  a stand  for  their  rights. 
The  Polozhe'nie  was  a large  and  difficult  book,  which  it 
took  me  a good  deal  of  time  to  understand ; but  when 
Vasili  Ivanoff,  the  elder  of  Nikolskoye,  came  one  day  to 
ask  me  to  explain  to  him  some  obscurity  in  it,  I saw  that 
he,  who  was  not  even  a fluent  reader,  had  admirably  found 
his  way  amongst  the  intricacies  of  the  chapters  and  para- 
graphs of  the  law. 

The  “ household  people  ” — that  is,  the  servants  — came 


EFFECTS  OF  EMANCIPATION 


137 


out  the  worst  of  all.  They  got  no  land,  and  would  hardly 
have  known  what  to  do  with  it  if  they  had.  They  got 
freedom,  and  nothing  besides.  In  our  neighborhood  nearly 
all  of  them  left  their  masters ; none,  for  example,  remained 
in  the  household  of  my  father.  They  went  in  search  of 
positions  elsewhere,  and  a number  of  them  found  employ- 
ment at  once  with  the  merchant  class,  who  were  proud  of 
having  the  coachman  of  Prince  So  and  So,  or  the  cook  of 
General  So  and  So.  Those  who  knew  a trade  found  work 
in  the  towns : for  instance,  my  father’s  band  remained  a 
band,  and  made  a good  living  at  Kaluga,  retaining  amiable 
relations  with  us.  But  those  who  had  no  trade  had  hard 
times  before  them ; and  yet,  the  majority  preferred  to  live 
anyhow,  rather  than  remain  with  their  old  masters. 

As  to  the  landlords,  while  the  larger  ones  made  all 
possible  efforts  at  St.  Petersburg  to  reintroduce  the  old 
conditions  under  one  name  or  another  (they  succeeded  in 
doing  so  to  some  extent  under  Alexander  III.),  by  far  the 
greater  number  submitted  to  the  abolition  of  serfdom  as  to 
a sort  of  necessary  calamity.  The  young  generation  gave 
to  Russia  that  remarkable  staff  of  “ peace  mediators  ” and 
justices  of  the  peace  who  contributed  so  much  to  the  peace- 
ful issue  of  the  emancipation.  As  to  the  old  generation, 
most  of  them  had  already  discounted  the  considerable  sums 
of  money  they  were  to  receive  from  the  peasants  for  the 
land  which  was  granted  to  the  liberated  serfs,  and  which 
was  valued  much  above  its  market  price ; they  schemed  as 
to  how  they  would  squander  that  money  in  the  restaurants 
of  the  capitals,  or  at  the  green  tables  in  gambling.  And 
they  did  squander  it,  almost  all  of  them,  as  soon  as  they 
got  it. 

For  many  landlords,  the  liberation  of  the  serfs  was  an 
excellent  money  transaction.  Thus,  land  which  my  father, 
in  anticipation  of  the  emancipation,  sold  in  parcels  at  the 
rate  of  eleven  rubles  the  Russian  acre,  was  now  estimated  at 


138 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


forty  rubles  in  the  peasants’  allotments,  — that  is,  three  and 
a half  times  above  its  market  value,  — and  this  -was  the  rule 
in  all  our  neighborhood ; ■while  in  my  father’s  Tambdv 
estate,  on  the  prairies,  the  mir  — that  is,  the  village  com- 
munity — rented  all  his  land  for  twelve  years,  at  a price 
which  represented  twice  as  much  as  he  used  to  get  from 
that  land  by  cultivating  it  with  servile  labor. 

Eleven  years  after  that  memorable  time  I went  to  the 
Tambov  estate,  which  I had  inherited  from  my  father.  I 
stayed  there  for  a few  weeks,  and  on  the  evening  of  my 
departure  our  village  priest  — an  intelligent  man  of  inde- 
pendent opinions,  such  as  one  meets  occasionally  in  our 
southern  provinces  — went  out  for  a walk  round  the  village. 
The  sunset  was  glorious;  a balmy  air  came  from  the 
prairies.  He  found  a middle-aged  peasant  — Antdn  Sav^- 
lieff — sitting  on  a small  eminence  outside  the  village  and 
reading  a book  of  psalms.  The  peasant  hardly  knew  how 
to  spell,  in  Old  Slavonic,  and  often  he  would  read  a book 
from  the  last  page,  turning  the  pages  backward ; it  was  the 
process  of  reading  which  he  liked  most,  and  then  a ■word 
would  strike  him,  and  its  repetition  pleased  him.  He  was 
reading  now  a psalm  of  which  each  verse  began  with  the 
word  “ rejoice.” 

“ What  are  you  reading  ? ” he  was  asked. 

“ Well,  father,  I will  tell  you,”  was  his  reply.  “ Four- 
teen years  ago  the  old  prince  came  here.  It  was  in  the 
winter.  I had  just  returned  home,  almost  frozen.  A snow- 
storm was  raging.  I had  scarcely  begun  undressing,  when 
we  heard  a knock  at  the  window  : it  was  the  elder,  who  was 
shouting,  ‘ Go  to  the  prince  ! He  wants  you  ! ’ We  all  — 
my  wife  and  our  children  — were  thunderstruck.  ‘What 
can  he  want  of  you  ? ’ my  wife  cried,  in  alarm.  I signed 
myself  with  the  cross  and  went ; the  snowstorm  almost 
blinded  me  as  I crossed  the  bridge.  Well,  it  ended  all 


THE  OLD  AND  THE  NEW 


139 


tight.  The  old  prince  was  taking  his  afternoon  sleep,  and 
when  he  woke  up  he  asked  me  if  I knew  plastering  work, 
and  only  told  me.  ‘ Come  to-morrow  to  repair  the  plaster  in 
that  room.’  So  I went  home  quite  happy,  and  when  I came 
to  the  bridge  I found  my  wife  standing  there.  She  had 
stood  there  all  the  time  in  the  snowstorm,  with  the  baby  in 
her  arms,  waiting  for  me.  ‘ What  has  happened,  Savelich  ? * 
she  cried.  ‘Well/  I said,  ‘no  harm;  he  only  asked  me 
to  make  some  repairs.’  That,  father,  was  under  the  old 
prince.  And  now,  the  young  prince  came  here  the  other 
day.  I went  to  see  him,  and  found  him  in  the  garden,  at 
the  tea  table,  in  the  shadow  of  the  house ; you,  father,  sat 
with  him,  and  the  elder  of  the  canton,  with  his  mayor’s 
chain  upon  his  breast.  ‘ Will  you  have  tea,  Savelich  ? ’ he 
asks  me.  ‘ Take  a chair.  Petr  Grigdrieff,’  — he  says  that 
to  the  old  one,  — ‘ give  us  one  more  chair.’  And  Petr 
Grigbrieff  — you  know  what  a terror  for  us  he  was  when  he 
was  the  manager  of  the  old  prince  — brought  the  chair,  and 
we  all  sat  round  the  tea  table,  talking,  and  he  poured  out 
tea  for  all  of  us.  Well,  now,  father,  the  evening  is  so 
beautiful,  the  balm  comes  from  the  prairies,  and  I sit  and 
read,  ‘ Rejoice  ! Rejoice  ! ’ ” 

This  is  what  the  abolition  of  serfdom  meant  for  the 
peasants. 


IX 


In  June,  1861,  I was  nominated  sergeant  of  the  corps  of 
pages.  Some  of  our  officers,  I must  say,  did  not  like  the 
idea  of  it,  saying  that  there  would  be  no  “ discipline  ” with 
me  acting  as  a sergeant ; but  it  could  not  be  helped  ; it  was 
usually  the  first  pupil  of  the  upper  form  who  was  nominated 
sergeant,  and  I had  been  at  the  top  of  our  form  for  several 
years  in  succession.  This  appointment  was  considered  very 
enviable,  not  only  because  the  sergeant  occupied  a privileged 
position  in  the  school  and  was  treated  like  an  officer,  but 
especially  because  he  was  also  the  page  de  chambre  of  the 
Emperor  for  the  time  being ; and  to  be  personally  known 
to  the  Emperor  was  of  course  considered  as  a stepping-stone 
to  further  distinctions.  The  most  important  point  to  me 
was,  however,  that  it  freed  me  from  all  the  drudgery  of  the 
inner  service  of  the  school,  which  fell  on  the  pages  de 
chambre,  and  that  I should  have  for  my  studies  a separate 
room,  where  I could  isolate  myself  from  the  bustle  of  the 
school.  True,  there  was  also  an  important  drawback  to  it : 
I had  always  found  it  tedious  to  pace  up  and  down,  many 
times  a day,  the  whole  length  of  our  rooms,  and  used  there- 
fore to  run  the  distance  full  speed,  which  was  severely  pro- 
hibited ; and  now  I should  have  to  walk  very  solemnly, 
with  the  service-book  under  my  arm,  instead  of  running ! 
A consultation  was  even  held  among  a few  friends  of  mine 
upon  this  serious  matter,  and  it  was  decided  that  from  time 
to  time  I could  still  find  opportunities  to  take  my  favorite 
runs ; as  to  my  relations  with  all  the  others,  it  depended 
upon  myself  to  put  them  on  a new  comrade-like  footing,  and 
this  I did. 


COURT  LIFE 


141 


The  pages  de  chambre  had  to  be  at  the  palace  frequently, 
in  attendance  at  the  great  and  small  levees,  the  balls,  the 
receptions,  the  gala  dinners,  and  so  on.  During  Christmas, 
New  Year,  and  Easter  weeks  we  were  summoned  to  the 
palace  almost  every  day,  and  sometimes  twice  a day.  More- 
over, in  my  military  capacity  of  sergeant  I had  to  report 
to  the  Emperor  every  Sunday,  at  the  parade  in  the  riding- 
school,  that  “ all  was  well  at  the  company  of  the  corps  of 
pages,”  even  when  one  third  of  the  school  was  ill  of  some 
contagious  disease.  “ Shall  I not  report  to-day  that  all  is 
not  quite  well  ? ” I asked  the  colonel  on  this  occasion. 
“ God  bless  you,”  was  his  reply,  “you  ought  only  to  say  so 
if  there  were  an  insurrection  ! ” 

Court  life  has  undoubtedly  much  that  is  picturesque  about 
it.  With  its  elegant  refinement  of  manners,  — superficial 
though  it  may  be,  — its  strict  etiquette,  and  its  brilliant 
surroundings,  it  is  certainly  meant  to  be  impressive.  A 
great  levee  is  a fine  pageant,  and  even  the  simple  reception 
of  a few  ladies  by  the  Empress  becomes  quite  different  from 
a common  call,  when  it  takes  place  in  a richly  decorated 
drawing-room  of  the  palace,  — the  guests  ushered  by  cham- 
berlains in  gold-embroidered  uniforms,  the  hostess  followed 
by  brilliantly  dressed  pages  and  a suite  of  ladies,  and  every- 
thing conducted  with  striking  solemnity.  To  be  an  actor 
in  the  court  ceremonies,  in  attendance  upon  the  chief  per- 
sonages, offered  something  more  than  the  mere  interest  of 
curiosity  for  a boy  of  my  age.  Besides,  I then  looked  upon 
Alexander  II.  as  a sort  of  hero ; a man  who  attached  no 
importance  to  the  court  ceremonies,  but  who,  at  this  period 
of  his  reign,  began  his  working  day  at  six  in  the  morning, 
and  was  engaged  in  a hard  struggle  with  a powerful  re- 
actionary party  in  order  to  carry  through  a series  of  reforms, 
in  which  the  abolition  of  serfdom  was  only  the  first  step. 

But  gradually,  as  I saw  more  of  the  spectacular  side  of 
court  life,  and  caught  now  and  then  a glimpse  of  what  waa 


142 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


going  on  behind  the  scenes,  I realized  not  only  the  futility 
of  these  shows  and  the  things  they  were  intended  to  conceal, 
but  also  that  these  small  things  so  much  absorbed  the  court 
as  to  prevent  consideration  of  matters  of  far  greater  im- 
portance. The  realities  were  often  lost  in  the  acting.  And 
then  from  Alexander  II.  himself  slowly  faded  the  aureole 
with  which  my  imagination  had  surrounded  him ; so  that 
by  the  end  of  the  year,  even  if  at  the  outset  I had  cherished 
some  illusions  as  to  useful  activity  in  the  spheres  nearest  to 
the  palace,  I should  have  retained  none. 

On  every  important  holiday,  as  also  on  the  birthdays 
and  name  days  of  the  Emperor  and  Empress,  on  the  coro- 
nation day,  and  on  other  similar  occasions,  a great  levee 
was  held  at  the  palace.  Thousands  of  generals  and  officers 
of  all  ranks,  down  to  that  of  captain,  as  well  as  the  high 
functionaries  of  the  civil  service,  were  arranged  in  lines  in 
the  immense  halls  of  the  palace,  to  bow  at  the  passage  of 
the  Emperor  and  his  family,  as  they  solemnly  proceeded 
to  the  church.  All  the  members  of  the  imperial  family 
came  on  those  days  to  the  palace,  meeting  together  in  a 
drawing-room,  and  merrily  chatting  till  the  moment  arrived 
for  putting  on  the  mask  of  solemnity.  Then  the  column 
was  formed.  The  Emperor,  giving  his  hand  to  the  Em- 
press, opened  the  march.  He  was  followed  by  his  page 
de  chambre,  and  he  in  turn  by  the  general  aide-de-camp, 
the  aide-de-camp  on  duty  that  day,  and  the  minister  of  the 
imperial  household ; while  the  Empress,  or  rather  the  im- 
mense train  of  her  dress,  was  attended  by  her  two  pages 
de  chambre,  who  had  to  support  the  train  at  the  turnings 
and  to  spread  it  out  again  in  all  its  beauty.  The  heir 
apparent,  wTho  was  a young  man  of  eighteen,  and  all  the 
other  grand  dukes  and  duchesses  came  next,  in  the  order 
of  their  right  of  succession  to  the  throne,  — each  of  the 
grand  duchesses  followed  by  her  page  de  chambre ; then 
there  was  a long  procession  of  the  ladies  in  attendance,  old 


LEVEES  AND  BALLS  AT  THE  PALACE  14? 

and  young,  all  wearing  the  so-called  Russian  costume,  — - 
that  is,  an  evening  dress  which  was  supposed  to  resemble 
the  costume  worn  by  the  women  of  Old  Russia. 

As  the  procession  passed,  I could  see  how  each  of  the 
eldest  military  and  civil  functionaries,  before  making  his 
bow,  would  try  to  catch  the  eye  of  the  Emperor,  and  if  he 
had  his  bow  acknowledged  by  a smiling  look  of  the  Tsar, 
or  by  a hardly  perceptible  nod  of  the  head,  or  perchance 
by  a word  or  two,  he  would  look  round  upon  his  neighbors, 
full  of  pride,  in  the  expectation  of  their  congratulations. 

From  the  church  the  procession  returned  in  the  same 
way,  and  then  every  one  hurried  back  to  his  own  affairs. 
Apart  from  a few  devotees  and  some  young  ladies,  not  one 
in  ten  present  at  these  levees  regarded  them  otherwise  than 
as  a tedious  duty. 

Twice  or  thrice  during  the  winter  great  balls  were  given 
at  the  palace,  and  thousands  of  people  were  invited  to 
them.  After  the  Emperor  had  opened  the  dances  with  a 
polonaise,  full  liberty  was  left  to  every  one  to  enjoy  the 
time  as  he  liked.  There  was  plenty  of  room  in  the  im- 
mense brightly  illuminated  halls,  where  young  girls  were 
easily  lost  to  the  watchful  eyes  of  their  parents  and  aunts, 
and  many  thoroughly  enjoyed  the  dances  and  the  supper, 
during  which  the  young  people  managed  to  be  left  to  them- 
selves. 

My  duties  at  these  balls  were  rather  difficult.  Alex- 
ander II.  did  not  dance,  nor  did  he  sit  down,  but  he  moved 
all  the  time  amongst  his  guests,  his  page  de  chambre  hav- 
ing to  follow  him  at  a distance,  so  as  to  be  within  easy 
call,  and  yet  not  inconveniently  near.  This  combination  of 
presence  with  absence  was  not  easy  to  attain,  nor  did  the 
Emperor  require  it : he  would  have  preferred  to  be  left 
entirely  to  himself ; but  such  was  the  tradition,  and  he  had 
to  submit  to  it.  The  worst  was  when  he  entered  a dense 
crowd  of  ladies  who  stood  round  the  circle  in  which  the 


144 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


grand  dukes  danced,  and  slowly  circulated  among  them. 
It  was  not  at  all  easy  to  make  a way  through  this  living 
garden,  which  opened  to  give  passage  to  the  Emperor,  hut 
closed  in  immediately  behind  him.  Instead  of  dancing 
themselves,  hundreds  of  ladies  and  girls  stood  there,  closely 
packed,  each  in  the  expectation  that  one  of  the  grand  dukes 
would  perhaps  notice  her  and  invite  her  to  dance  a waltz 
or  a polka.  Such  was  the  influence  of  the  court  upon  St. 
Petersburg  society  that  if  one  of  the  grand  dukes  cast  his 
eye  upon  a girl,  her  parents  would  do  all  in  their  power  to 
make  their  child  fall  madly  in  love  with  the  great  personage, 
3ven  though  they  knew  well  that  no  marriage  could  result 
from  it,  — the  Russian  grand  dukes  not  being  allowed  to 
marry  “ subjects  ” of  the  Tsar.  The  conversations  which 
I once  heard  in  a “ respectable  ” family,  connected  with  the 
court,  after  the  heir  apparent  had  danced  twice  or  thrice 
with  a girl  of  seventeen,  and  the  hopes  which  were  ex- 
pressed by  her  parents  surpassed  all  that  I could  possibly 
have  imagined. 

Every  time  that  we  were  at  the  palace  we  had  lunch  or 
dinner  there,  and  the  footmen  would  whisper  to  us  hits  of 
news  from  the  scandalous  chronicle  of  the  place,  whether 
we  cared  for  it  or  not.  They  knew  everything  that  was 
going  on  in  the  different  palaces,  — that  was  their  domain. 
For  truth’s  sake,  I must  say  that  during  the  year  which  I 
speak  of,  that  sort  of  chronicle  was  not  as  rich  in  events  as 
it  became  in  the  seventies.  The  brothers  of  the  Tsar  were 
only  recently  married,  and  his  sons  were  all  very  young. 
But  the  relations  of  the  Emperor  himself  with  the  Prin- 
cess X.,  whom  Turgueneff  has  so  admirably  depicted  in 
“ Smoke  ” under  the  name  of  Irene,  were  even  more  freely 
6poken  of  by  the  servants  than  by  St.  Petersburg  society. 
One  day,  however,  when  we  entered  the  room  where  we 
used  to  dress,  we  were  told,  “The  X.  has  to-day  got  her 


POLICE  ESPIONAGE 


145 


dismissal,  — a complete  one  this  time.”  Half  an  hour 
later,  we  saw  the  lady  in  question  coming  to  assist  at  mass, 
with  eyes  swollen  from  weeping,  and  swallowing  her  tears 
during  the  mass,  while  the  other  ladies  managed  so  to  stand 
at  a distance  from  her  as  to  put  her  in  evidence.  The 
footmen  were  already  informed  about  the  incident,  and 
commented  upon  it  in  their  own  way.  There  was  some- 
thing truly  repulsive  in  the  talk  of  these  men,  who  the 
day  before  would  have  crouched  down  before  the  same 
lady. 

The  system  of  espionage  which  is  exercised  in  the  palace, 
especially  around  the  Emperor  himself,  would  seem  almost 
incredible  to  the  uninitiated.  The  following  incident  will 
give  some  idea  of  it.  A few  years  later,  one  of  the  grand 
dukes  received  a severe  lesson  from  a St.  Petersburg  gentle- 
man. The  latter  had  forbidden  the  grand  duke  his  house, 
hut,  returning  home  unexpectedly,  he  found  him  in  his 
drawing-room,  and  rushed  upon  him  with  his  lifted  stick. 
The  young  man  dashed  down  the  staircase,  and  was  already 
jumping  into  his  carriage,  when  the  pursuer  caught  him, 
and  dealt  him  a blow  with  his  stick.  The  policeman  who 
stood  at  the  door  saw  the  adventure  and  ran  to  report  it  to 
the  chief  of  the  police,  General  Trepoff,  who,  in  his  turn, 
jumped  into  his  carriage  and  hastened  to  the  Emperor,  to 
be  the  first  to  report  the  “ sad  incident.”  Alexander  II. 
summoned  the  grand  duke  and  had  a talk  with  him.  A 
couple  of  days  later,  an  old  functionary  who  belonged  to 
the  Third  Section  of  the  Emperor’s  Chancery, — that  is, 
to  the  state  police,  — and  who  was  a friend  at  the  house  of 
one  of  my  comrades,  related  the  whole  conversation.  “ The 
Emperor,”  he  informed  us,  “ was  very  angry,  and  said  to 
the  grand  duke  in  conclusion,  ‘You  should  know  better 
how  to  manage  your  little  affairs.’  ” He  was  asked,  of 
course,  how  he  could  know  anything  about  a private  con- 
versation, but  the  reply  was  very  characteristic : “ The 


146 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


■words  and  the  opinions  of  his  Majesty  must  be  known 
to  our  department.  How  otherwise  could  such  a delicate 
institution  as  the  state  police  be  managed  ? Be  sure  that 
the  Emperor  is  the  most  closely  watched  person  in  all  St. 
Petersburg.” 

There  was  no  boasting  in  these  words.  Every  minister, 
every  governor-general,  before  entering  the  Emperor’s  study 
with  his  reports,  had  a talk  with  the  private  valet  of  the 
Emperor,  to  know  what  was  the  mood  of  the  master  that 
day ; and,  according  to  that  mood,  he  either  laid  before  him 
some  knotty  affair,  or  let  it  lie  at  the  bottom  of  his  portfolio 
in  hope  of  a more  lucky  day.  The  governor-general  of  East 
Siberia,  when  he  came  to  St.  Petersburg,  always  sent  his 
private  aide-de-camp  with  a handsome  gift  to  the  private 
valet  of  the  Emperor.  “ There  are  days,”  he  used  to  say, 
“ when  the  Emperor  would  get  into  a rage,  and  order  a 
searching  inquest  upon  every  one  and  myself,  if  I should 
lay  before  him  on  such  a day  certain  reports  ; whereas  there 
are  other  days  when  all  will  go  off  quite  smoothly.  A 
precious  man  that  valet  is.”  To  know  from  day  to  day  the 
frame  of  mind  of  the  Emperor  was  a substantial  part  of  the 
art  of  retaining  a high  position,  — an  art  which  later  on 
Count  Shuvaloff  and  General  Trepoff  understood  to  perfec- 
tion ; also  Count  Ignatieff,  who,  I suppose  from  what  I saw 
of  him,  possessed  that  art  even  without  the  help  of  the 
valet. 

At  the  beginning  of  my  service  I felt  a great  admiration 
for  Alexander  II.,  the  liberator  of  the  serfs.  Imagination 
often  carries  a boy  beyond  the  realities  of  the  moment,  and 
my  frame  of  mind  at  that  time  was  such  that  if  an  attempt 
had  been  made  in  my  presence  upon  the  Tsar,  I should  have 
covered  him  with  my  body.  One  day,  at  the  beginning  of 
January,  1862,  I saw  him  leave  the  procession  and  rapidly 
walk  alone  toward  the  halls  where  parts  of  all  the  regiments 


ALEXANDER  II 


147 


of  the  St.  Petersburg  garrison  were  aligned  for  a parade. 
This  parade  usually  took  place  outdoors,  but  this  year,  on 
account  of  the  frost,  it  was  held  indoors,  and  Alexander  II., 
who  generally  galloped  at  full  speed  in  front  of  the  troops 
at  the  reviews,  had  now  to  march  in  front  of  the  regiments. 
I knew  that  my  court  duties  ended  as  soon  as  the  Emperor 
appeared  in  his  capacity  of  military  commander  of  the  troops, 
and  that  I had  to  follow  him  to  this  spot,  hut  no  further. 
However,  on  looking  round,  I saw  that  he  was  quite  alone. 
The  two  aides-de-camp  had  disappeared,  and  there  was  with 
him  not  a single  man  of  his  suite.  “I  will  not  leave  him 
alone ! ” I said  to  myself,  and  followed  him. 

Whether  Alexander  II.  was  in  a great  hurry  that  day,  or 
had  other  reasons  to  wish  that  the  review  should  be  over  as 
soon  as  possible,  I cannot  say,  but  he  dashed  in  front  of  the 
troops,  and  marched  along  their  rows  at  such  a speed,  making 
such  big  and  rapid  steps,  — he  was  very  tall,  — that  I had 
the  greatest  difficulty  in  following  him  at  my  most  rapid 
pace,  and  in  places  had  almost  to  run  in  order  to  keep  close 
behind  him.  He  hurried  as  if  running  away  from  a danger. 
His  excitement  communicated  itself  to  me,  and  every  mo- 
ment I was  ready  to  jump  in  front  of  him,  regretting  only 
that  I had  on  my  ordnance  sword  and  not  my  own  sword, 
with  a Toledo  blade,  which  pierced  copper  and  was  a far 
better  weapon.  It  was  only  after  he  had  passed  in  front  of 
the  last  battalion  that  he  slackened  his  pace,  and,  on  entering 
another  hall,  looked  round,  to  meet  my  eyes  glittering  with 
the  excitement  of  that  mad  march.  The  younger  aide-de^ 
camp  was  running  at  full  speed,  two  halls  behind.  I was 
prepared  to  get  a severe  scolding,  instead  of  which  Alex- 
ander II.  said  to  me,  perhaps  betraying  his  own  inner 
thoughts  : “ You  here  ? Brave  boy  ! ” and  as  he  slowly 
walked  away,  he  turned  into  space  that  problematic,  absent- 
minded  gaze,  which  I had  begun  often  to  notice. 

Such  was  then  the  frame  of  my  mind.  However,  various 


148 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


Email  incidents,  as  well  as  the  reactionary  character  which 
the  policy  of  Alexander  II.  was  decidedly  taking,  instilled 
more  and  more  doubts  into  my  heart.  Every  year,  on 
January  6,  a half  Christian  and  half  pagan  ceremony  of 
sanctifying  the  waters  is  performed  in  Russia.  It  is  also 
performed  at  the  palace.  A pavilion  is  built  on  the  Neva 
River,  opposite  the  palace,  and  the  imperial  family,  headed 
by  the  clergy,  proceed  from  the  palace,  across  the  superb 
quay,  to  the  pavilion,  where  a Te  Deum  is  sung  and  the 
cross  is  plunged  into  the  water  of  the  river.  Thousands  of 
people  stand  on  the  quay  and  on  the  ice  of  the  Neva  to 
witness  the  ceremony  from  a distance.  All  have  to  stand 
bareheaded  during  the  service.  This  year,  as  the  frost  was 
rather  sharp,  an  old  general  had  put  on  a wig,  and  in  the 
hurry  of  drawing  on  his  cape,  his  wig  had  been  dislodged 
and  now  lay  across  his  head,  without  his  noticing  it.  The 
Grand  Duke  Constantine,  having  caught  sight  of  it,  laughed 
the  whole  time  the  Te  Deum  was  being  sung,  with  the 
younger  grand  dukes,  looking  in  the  direction  of  the  un- 
happy general,  who  smiled  stupidly  without  knowing  why 
he  was  the  cause  of  so  much  hilarity.  Constantine  finally 
whispered  to  the  Emperor,  who  also  looked  at  the  general 
and  laughed. 

A few  minutes  later,  as  the  procession  once  more  crossed 
the  quay,  on  its  way  back  to  the  palace,  an  old  peasant, 
bareheaded  too,  pushed  himself  through  the  double  hedge 
of  soldiers  who  lined  the  path  of  the  procession,  and  fell  on 
his  knees  just  at  the  feet  of  the  Emperor,  holding  out  a 
petition,  and  crying  with  tears  in  his  eyes,  “ Father,  defend 
us ! ” Ages  of  oppression  of  the  Russian  peasantry  was  in 
this  exclamation;  but  Alexander  II.,  who  a few  minutes 
before  laughed  during  the  church-service  at  a wig  lying  the 
wrong  way,  now  passed  by  the  peasant  without  taking  the 
slightest  notice  of  him.  I was  close  behind  him,  and  only 
saw  in  him  a shudder  of  fear  at  the  sudden  appearance  of 


ALEXANDER  II 


149 


the  peasant,  after  which  he  went  on  without  deigning  even 
to  cast  a glance  on  the  human  figure  at  his  feet.  I looked 
round.  The  aides-de-camp  were  not  there  ; the  Grand  Duke 
Constantine,  who  followed,  took  no  more  notice  of  the 
peasant  than  his  brother  did  ; there  was  nobody  even  to  take 
the  petition,  so  that  I took  it,  although  I knew  that  I should 
get  a scolding  for  doing  so.  It  was  not  my  business  to 
receive  petitions,  but  I remembered  what  it  must  have  cost 
the  peasant  before  he  could  make  his  way  to  the  capital, 
and  then  through  the  lines  of  police  and  soldiers  who 
surrounded  the  procession.  Like  all  peasants  who  hand 
petitions  to  the  Tsar,  he  was  going  to  be  put  under  arrest, 
for  no  one  knows  how  long. 

On  the  day  of  the  emancipation  of  the  serfs,  Alexander 
II.  was  worshiped  at  St.  Petersburg  ; but  it  is  most  remark- 
able that,  apart  from  that  moment  of  general  enthusiasm, 
he  had  not  the  love  of  the  city.  His  brother  Nicholas  — 
no  one  could  say  why  — was  at  least  very  popular  among 
the  small  tradespeople  and  the  cabmen  ; but  neither  Alex- 
ander II.,  nor  his  brother  Constantine,  the  leader  of  the 
reform  party,  nor  his  third  brother,  Mikhael,  had  won  the 
hearts  of  any  class  of  people  in  St.  Petersburg.  Alexander 
II.  had  retained  too  much  of  the  despotic  character  of  his 
father,  which  pierced  now  and  then  through  his  usually 
good-natured  manners.  He  easily  lost  his  temper,  and 
often  treated  his  courtiers  in  the  most  contemptuous  way. 
He  was  not  what  one  would  describe  as  a truly  reliable 
man,  either  in  his  policy  or  in  his  personal  sympathies,  and 
he  was  vindictive.  I doubt  whether  he  was  sincerely 
attached  to  any  one.  Some  of  the  men  in  his  nearest  sur- 
roundings were  of  the  worst  description,  — Count  Adler- 
berg,  for  instance,  who  made  him  pay  over  and  over  again 
his  enormous  debts,  and  others  renowned  for  their  colossal 
thefts.  From  the  beginning  of  1862  he  commenced  to 


150 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


show  himself  capable  of  reviving  the  worst  practices  of  his 
father’s  reign.  It  was  known  that  he  still  wanted  to  carry 
through  a series  of  important  reforms  in  the  judicial  organ- 
ization and  in  the  army ; that  the  terrible  corporal  punish- 
ments were  about  to  be  abolished,  and  that  a sort  of  local 
self-government,  and  perhaps  a constitution  of  some  sort, 
would  be  granted.  But  the  slightest  disturbance  was  re- 
pressed under  his  orders  with  a stern  severity  : he  took  each 
movement  as  a personal  offense,  so  that  at  any  moment 
one  might  expect  from  him  the  most  reactionary  measures. 
The  disorders  which  broke  out  at  the  universities  of  St. 
Petersburg,  Moscow,  and  Kazan,  in  October,  1861,  were 
repressed  with  an  ever  increasing  strictness.  The  Univer- 
sity of  St.  Petersburg  was  closed,  and  although  free  courses 
were  opened  by  most  of  the  professors  at  the  Town  Hall,  they 
were  also  soon  closed,  and  some  of  the  best  professors  left 
the  university.  Immediately  after  the  abolition  of  serfdom, 
a great  movement  began  for  the  opening  of  Sunday-schools ; 
they  were  opened  everywhere  by  private  persons  and  cor- 
porations, — all  the  teachers  being  volunteers,  — and  the 
peasants  and  workers,  old  and  young,  flocked  to  these 
schools.  Officers,  students,  even  a few  pages,  became 
teachers  ; and  such  excellent  methods  were  worked  out  that 
(Russian  having  a phonetic  spelling)  we  succeeded  in  teach- 
ing a peasant  to  read  in  nine  or  ten  lessons.  But  suddenly  all 
Sunday-schools,  in  which  the  mass  of  the  peasantry  would, 
have  learned  to  read  in  a few  years,  without  any  expenditure 
by  the  state,  were  closed.  In  Poland,  where  a series  of  patri- 
otic manifestations  had  begun,  the  Cossacks  were  sent  out  to 
disperse  the  crowds  with  their  whips,  and  to  arrest  hundreds 
of  people  in  the  churches  with  their  usual  brutality.  Men 
were  shot  in  the  streets  of  Warsaw  by  the  end  of  1861,  and 
for  the  suppression  of  the  few  peasant  insurrections  which 
broke  out,  the  horrible  flogging  through  the  double  line  of 
soldiers  — that  favorite  punishment  of  Nicholas  L — was 


THE  EMPRESS  MARIE  ALEXANDROVNA  151 

applied.  The  despot  that  Alexander  II.  became  in  the 
years  1870-81  was  foreshadowed  in  1862. 

Of  all  the  imperial  family,  undoubtedly  the  most  sym- 
pathetic was  the  Empress  Marie  Alexandrovna.  She  was 
sincere,  and  when  she  said  something  pleasant,  she  meant  it. 
The  way  in  which  she  once  thanked  me  for  a little  courtesy 
(it  was  after  her  reception  of  the  ambassador  of  the  United 
States,  who  had  just  come  to  St.  Petersburg)  deeply  im- 
pressed me : it  was  not  the  way  of  a lady  spoiled  by  cour- 
tesies, as  an  empress  is  supposed  to  be.  She  certainly  was 
not  happy  in  her  home  life ; nor  was  she  liked  by  the  ladies 
of  the  court,  who  found  her  too  severe,  and  could  not  under- 
stand why  she  should  take  so  much  to  heart  the  etourderies 
of  her  husband.  It  is  now  known  that  she  played  a by  no 
means  unimportant  part  in  bringing  about  the  abolition  of 
serfdom.  But  at  that  time  her  influence  in  this  direction 
seems  to  have  been  little  known,  the  Grand  Duke  Constan- 
tine and  the  Grand  Duchess  Helene  Pavlovna,  who  was 
the  main  support  of  Nicholas  Milutin  at  the  court,  being 
considered  the  two  leaders  of  the  reform  party  in  the  palace 
spheres.  The  Empress  was  better  known  for  the  decisive 
part  she  had  taken  in  the  creation  of  girls’  gymnasia  (high 
schools),  which  received  from  the  outset  a high  standard  of 
organization  and  a truly  democratic  character.  Her  friendly 
relations  with  Ushfnsky,  a great  pedagogist,  saved  him  from 
sharing  the  fate  of  all  men  of  mark  of  that  time,  — that  is, 
exile. 

Being  very  well  educated  herself,  Marie  Alexandrovna 
did  her  best  to  give  a good  education  to  her  eldest  son. 
The  best  men  in  all  branches  of  knowledge  were  sought  as 
teachers,  and  she  even  invited  for  that  purpose  Kavelin, 
although  she  knew  well  his  friendly  relations  with  Hdrzen. 
When  he  mentioned  to  her  that  friendship,  she  replied  that 
she  had  no  grudge  against  Hdrzen,  except  for  his  violent 
language  about  the  Empress  dowager. 


152 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


The  heir  apparent  was  extremely  handsome,  — perhaps, 
even  too  femininely  handsome.  He  was  not  proud  in  the 
least,  and  during  the  levees  he  used  to  chatter  in  the  most 
comrade-like  way  with  the  pages  de  chambre.  (I  even 
remember,  at  the  reception  of  the  diplomatic  corps  on  New 
Year’s  Day,  trying  to  make  him  appreciate  the  simplicity 
of  the  uniform  of  the  ambassador  of  the  United  States  as 
compared  with  the  parrot-colored  uniforms  of  the  other 
ambassadors.)  However,  those  who  knew  him  well  de- 
scribed him  as  profoundly  egoistic,  a man  absolutely  incapa- 
ble of  contracting  an  attachment  to  any  one.  This  feature 
was  prominent  in  him,  even  more  than  it  was  in  his  father. 
As  to  his  education,  all  the  pains  taken  by  his  mother  were 
of  no  avail.  In  August,  1861,  his  examinations,  which 
were  made  in  the  presence  of  his  father,  proved  to  be  a 
dead  failure,  and  I remember  Alexander  II.,  at  a parade  of 
which  the  heir  apparent  was  the  commander,  and  during 
which  he  made  some  mistake,  loudly  shouting  out,  so  that 
every  one  would  hear  it,  “ Even  that  you  could  not  learn  ! ” 
He  died,  as  is  known,  at  the  age  of  twenty-two,  from  some 
disease  of  the  spinal  cord. 

His  brother,  Alexander,  who  became  the  heir  apparent  in 
1865,  and  later  on  was  Alexander  III.,  was  a decided  con- 
trast to  Nicholas  Alexandrovich.  He  reminded  me  so  much 
of  Paul  I.,  by  his  face,  his  figure,  and  his  contemplation  of 
his  own  grandeur,  that  I used  to  say,  “ If  he  ever  reigns, 
he  will  be  another  Paul  I.  in  the  Gatchina  palace,  and  will 
have  the  same  end  as  his  great-grandfather  had  at  the  hands 
of  his  own  courtiers.”  He  obstinately  refused  to  learn. 
It  was  rumored  that  Alexander  II.,  having  had  so  many 
difficulties  with  his  brother  Constantine,  who  was  better 
educated  than  himself,  adopted  the  policy  of  concentrating 
all  his  attention  on  the  heir  apparent,  and  neglecting  the 
education  of  his  other  sons  ; however,  I doubt  if  such  was 
the  case  : Alexander  Alexandrovich  must  have  been  averse 


ALEXANDER  III 


153 


to  any  education  from  childhood  ; in  fact,  his  spelling, 
which  I saw  in  the  telegrams  he  addressed  to  his  bride 
at  Copenhagen,  was  unimaginably  bad.  I cannot  render 
here  his  Russian  spelling,  but  in  French  he  wrote,  “ Ecri  h 
oncle  a propos  parade  . . . les  nouvelles  sont  mauvaisent” 
and  so  on. 

He  is  said  to  have  improved  in  his  manners  toward  the 
end  of  his  life,  but  in  1870,  and  also  much  later,  he  was  a 
true  descendant  of  Paul  I.  I knew  at  St.  Petersburg  an 
officer,  of  Swedish  origin  (from  Finland),  who  had  been 
sent  to  the  United  States  to  order  rifles  for  the  Russian 
army.  On  his  return  he  had  to  report  about  his  mission 
to  Alexander  Alexandrovich,  who  had  been  appointed  to 
superintend  the  re-arming  of  the  army.  During  this  inter- 
view, the  Tsarevich,  giving  full  vent  to  his  violent  tem- 
per, began  to  scold  the  officer,  who  probably  replied  with 
dignity,  whereupon  the  prince  fell  into  a real  fit  of  rage, 
insulting  the  officer  in  bad  language.  The  officer,  who  be- 
longed to  that  type  of  self-respecting  but  very  loyal  men 
who  are  frequently  met  with  amongst  the  Swedish  nobil- 
ity in  Russia,  left  at  once,  and  wrote  a letter  in  which 
he  asked  the  heir  apparent  to  apologize  within  twenty-four 
hours,  adding  that  if  the  apology  did  not  come,  he  would 
shoot  himself.  It  was  a sort  of  J apanese  duel.  Alexander 
Alexandrovich  sent  no  excuses,  and  the  officer  kept  his 
word.  I saw  him  at  the  house  of  a warm  friend  of  mine, 
his  intimate  friend,  when  he  was  expecting  every  minute 
to  receive  the  apology.  Next  morning  he  was  dead.  The 
Tsar  was  very  angry  with  his  son,  and  ordered  him  to  fol- 
low the  hearse  of  the  officer  to  the  grave.  But  even  this 
terrible  lesson  did  not  cure  the  young  man  of  his  Romdnoff 
haughtiness  and  impetuosity. 


PART  THIRD 


SIBERIA 

I 

In  the  middle  of  May,  1862,  a few  weeks  before  oui 
promotion,  I was  told  one  day  by  the  captain  to  make  up 
the  final  list  of  the  regiments  which  each  of  us  intended 
to  join.  We  had  the  choice  of  all  the  regiments  of  the 
Guard,  which  we  could  enter  with  the  first  officer’s  grade, 
and  of  the  Army  with  the  third  grade  of  lieutenant.  I 
took  a list  of  our  form  and  went  the  rounds  of  my  com- 
rades. Every  one  knew  well  the  regiment  he  was  going 
to  join,  most  of  them  already  wearing  in  the  garden  the 
officer’s  cap  of  that  regiment. 

“Her  Majesty’s  Cuirassiers,”  “The  Body  Guard  Pre- 
obrazhensky,” “ The  Horse  Guards,”  were  the  replies  which 
I inscribed. 

“ But  you,  Kropdtkin  ? The  artillery  ? The  Cossacks  ? ” 
I was  asked  on  all  sides.  I could  not  stand  these  questions, 
and  at  last,  asking  a comrade  to  complete  the  list,  I went 
to  my  room  to  think  once  more  over  my  final  decision. 

That  I should  not  enter  a regiment  of  the  Guard,  and 
give  my  life  to  parades  and  court  balls,  I had  settled  long 
ago.  My  dream  was  to  enter  the  university,  — to  study, 
to  live  the  student’s  life.  That  meant,  of  course,  to  break 
entirely  with  my  father,  whose  ambitions  were  quite  dif- 
ferent, and  to  rely  for  my  living  upon  what  I might  earn 
by  means  of  lessons.  Thousands  of  Russian  students  live 
in  that  way,  and  such  a life  did  not  frighten  me  in  the 
least.  But  how  should  I get  over  the  first  steps  in  that 


CHOOSING  MY  REGIMENT 


155 


life  ? In  a few  weeks  I should  have  to  leave  the  school, 
to  don  my  own  clothes,  to  have  my  own  lodging,  and  I 
saw  no  possibility  of  providing  even  the  little  money  which 
would  be  required  for  the  most  modest  start.  Then,  fail- 
ing the  university,  I had  been  often  thinking  of  late  that 
I could  enter  the  artillery  academy.  That  would  free  me 
for  two  years  from  the  drudgery  of  military  service,  and, 
besides  the  military  sciences,  I could  study  mathematics 
and  physics.  But  the  wind  of  reaction  was  blowing,  and 
the  officers  in  the  academies  had  been  treated  during  the 
previous  winter  as  if  they  were  schoolboys  ; in  two  academies 
they  had  revolted,  and  in  one  of  them  they  had  left  in  a 
body. 

My  thoughts  turned  more  and  more  toward  Siberia. 
The  Amur  region  had  recently  been  annexed  by  Russia ; 
I had  read  all  about  that  Mississippi  of  the  East,  the  moun- 
tains it  pierces,  the  subtropical  vegetation  of  its  tributary, 
the  Usuri,  and  my  thoughts  went  further,  — to  the  tropical 
regions  which  Humboldt  had  described,  and  to  the  great 
generalizations  of  Ritter,  which  I delighted  to  read.  Be- 
sides, I reasoned,  there  is  in  Siberia  an  immense  field  for 
the  application  of  the  great  reforms  which  have  been  made 
or  are  coming : the  workers  must  be  few  there,  and  I shall 
find  a field  of  action  to  my  tastes.  The  worst  was  that 
I should  have  to  separate  from  my  brother  Alexander ; but 
he  had  been  compelled  to  leave  the  University  of  Moscow 
after  the  last  disorders,  and  in  a year  or  two,  I guessed 
(and  guessed  rightly),  in  one  way  or  another  we  should  be 
together.  There  remained  only  the  choice  of  the  regiment 
in  the  Amur  region.  The  Usurf  attracted  me  most ; but, 
alas ! there  was  on  the  Usuri  only  one  regiment  of  infantry 
Cossacks.  A Cossack  not  on  horseback,  — that  was  too 
bad  for  the  boy  that  I still  was,  and  I settled  upon  “ the 
mounted  Cossacks  of  the  Amur.” 

This  I wrote  on  the  list,  to  the  great  consternation  of  all 


156 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


my  comrades.  “ It  is  so  far,”  they  said,  while  my  friend 
Dauroff,  seizing  the  Officers’  Handbook,  read  out  of  it,  to 
the  horror  of  all  present : “ Uniform,  black,  with  a plain 
red  collar  without  braids;  fur  bonnet  made  of  dog’s  fur  or 
any  other  fur ; trousers,  gray.” 

“ Only  look  at  that  uniform  ! ” he  exclaimed.  “ Bother 
the  cap ! — you  can  wear  one  of  wolf  or  bear  fur  ; but 
think  only  of  the  trousers  ! Gray,  like  a soldier  of  the 
Train ! ” The  consternation  reached  its  climax  after  that 
reading. 

I joked  as  best  I could,  and  took  the  list  to  the 
captain. 

“ Kropotkin  must  always  have  his  joke ! ” he  cried. 
“ Did  I not  tell  you  that  the  list  must  be  sent  to  the  grand 
duke  to-day  ? ” 

Astonishment  and  pity  were  depicted  on  his  face  when 
I told  him  that  the  list  really  stated  my  intention. 

However,  next  day,  my  resolution  almost  gave  way  when 
I saw  how  Klasovsky  took  my  decision.  He  had  hoped  to 
see  me  in  the  university,  and  had  given  me  lessons  in  Latin 
and  Greek  for  that  purpose  ; and  I did  not  dare  to  tell  him 
what  really  prevented  me  from  entering  the  university : 
I knew  that  if  I told  him  the  truth,  he  would  offer  to  share 
with  me  the  little  that  he  had. 

Then  my  father  telegraphed  to  the  director  that  he  for- 
bade my  going  to  Siberia ; and  the  matter  was  reported  to 
the  grand  duke,  who  was  the  chief  of  the  military  schools. 
I was  called  before  his  assistant,  and  talked  about  the  vege- 
tation of  the  Amur  and  like  things,  because  I had  strong 
reasons  for  believing  that  if  I said  I wanted  to  go  to  the 
university,  and  could  not  afford  it,  a bursary  would  be 
offered  to  me  by  some  one  of  the  imperial  family,  — an 
offer  which  by  all  means  I wished  to  avoid. 

It  is  impossible  to  say  how  all  this  would  have  ended, 
but  an  event  of  much  importance  — the  great  fire  at  St, 


GREAT  FIRE  AT  ST.  PETERSBURG  157 

Petersburg  — brought  about  in  an  indirect  way  a solution 
of  my  difficulties. 

On  the  Monday  after  Trinity  — the  day  of  the  Holy 
Ghost,  which  was  that  year  on  May  26,  Old  Style  - — a 
terrible  fire  broke  out  in  the  so-called  Aprdxin  Dvor.  The 
Apraxin  Dvor  was  an  immense  space,  more  than  half  a 
mile  square,  which  was  entirely  covered  with  small  shops,  — 
mere  shanties  of  wood,  — where  all  sorts  of  second  and 
third  hand  goods  were  sold.  Old  furniture  and  bedding, 
second-hand  dresses  and  books,  poured  in  from  every 
quarter  of  the  city,  and  were  stored  in  the  small  shanties, 
in  the  passages  between  them,  and  even  on  their  roofs. 
This  accumulation  of  inflammable  materials  had  at  its  back 
the  Ministry  of  the  Interior  and  its  archives,  where  all  the 
documents  concerning  the  liberation  of  the  serfs  were  kept ; 
and  in  the  front  of  it,  which  was  lined  by  a row  of  shops 
built  of  stone,  was  the  state  Bank.  A narrow  lane,  also 
bordered  with  stone  shops,  separated  the  Apraxin  Dvor 
from  a wing  of  the  Corps  of  Pages,  which  was  occupied 
by  grocery  and  oil  shops  in  its  lower  story,  and  had  the 
apartments  of  the  officers  in  its  upper  story.  Almost 
opposite  the  Ministry  of  the  Interior,  on  the  other  side  of 
a canal,  there  were  extensive  timber  yards.  This  laby- 
rinth of  small  shanties  and  the  timber  yards  opposite  took 
fire  almost  at  the  same  moment,  at  four  o’clock  in  the 
afternoon. 

If  there  had  been  wind  on  that  day,  half  the  city  would 
have  perished  in  the  flames,  including  the  Bank,  several 
Ministries,  the  Gostinoi  Dvor  (another  great  block  of 
shops  on  the  Nevsky  Prospekt),  the  Corps  of  Pages,  and 
the  National  Library. 

I was  that  afternoon  at  the  Corps,  dining  at  the  house  of 
one  of  our  officers,  and  we  dashed  to  the  spot  as  soon  as 
We  saw  from  the  windows  the  first  clouds  of  smoke  rising 


15ff 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


in  our  immediate  neighborhood.  The  sight  was  terrific. 
Like  an  immense  snake,  rattling  and  whistling,  the  fire 
threw  itself  in  all  directions,  right  and  left,  enveloped  the 
shanties,  and  suddenly  rose  in  a huge  column,  darting  out 
its  whistling  tongues  to  lick  up  more  shanties  with  their 
contents.  Whirlwinds  of  smoke  and  fire  were  formed ; and 
when  the  whirls  of  burning  feathers  from  the  bedding 
shops  began  to  sweep  about  the  space,  it  became  impossible 
to  remain  any  longer  inside  the  burning  market.  The 
whole  had  to  be  abandoned. 

The  authorities  had  entirely  lost  their  heads.  There 
was  not,  at  that  time,  a single  steam  fire  engine  in  St. 
Petersburg,  and  it  was  workmen  who  suggested  bringing 
one  from  the  iron  works  of  Kdlpino,  situated  twenty  miles 
by  rail  from  the  capital.  When  the  engine  reached  the 
railway  station,  it  was  the  people  who  dragged  it  to  the 
conflagration.  Of  its  four  lines  of  hose,  one  was  damaged 
by  an  unknown  hand,  and  the  other  three  were  directed 
upon  the  Ministry  of  the  Interior. 

The  grand  dukes  came  to  the  spot  and  went  away  again. 
Late  in  the  evening,  when  the  Bank  was  out  of  danger, 
the  Emperor  also  made  his  appearance,  and  said,  what 
every  one  knew  already,  that  the  Corps  of  Pages  was  now 
the  key  of  the  battle,  and  must  be  saved  by  all  means.  It 
was  evident  that  if  the  Corps  had  taken  fire,  the  Na- 
tional Library  and  half  of  the  Nevsky  Prospekt  would  have 
gone. 

It  was  the  crowd,  the  people,  who  did  everything  to 
prevent  the  fire  from  spreading  further  and  further.  There 
was  a moment  when  the  Bank  was  seriously  menaced.  The 
goods  cleared  from  the  shops  opposite  were  thrown  into 
the  Sadovaya  street,  and  lay  in  great  heaps  upon  the  walls 
of  the  left  wing  of  the  Bank.  The  articles  which  cov- 
ered the  street  itself  continually  took  fire,  but  the  people, 
roasting  there  in  an  almost  unbearable  heat,  prevented  the 


GREAT  FIRE  AT  ST.  PETERSBURG 


J59 


flames  from  being  communicated  to  the  piles  of  goods  on 
the  other  side.  They  swore  at  all  the  authorities,  seeing 
that  there  was  not  a pump  on  the  spot.  “ What  are  they 
all  doing  at  the  Ministry  of  the  Interior,  when  the  Bank 
and  the  Foundlings’  House  are  going  to  take  fire  ? They 
have  all  lost  their  heads  ! ” “ Where  is  the  chief  of  police 

that  he  cannot  send  a fire  brigade  to  the  Bank  ? ” they 
said.  I knew  the  chief,  General  Annenkoff,  personally,  as 
I had  met  him  once  or  twice  at  our  sub-inspector’s  house, 
where  he  came  with  his  brother,  the  well-known  literary 
critic,  and  I volunteered  to  find  him.  I found  him,  indeed, 
walking  aimlessly  in  a street ; and  when  I reported  to  him 
the  state  of  affairs,  incredible  though  it  may  seem,  it  was 
to  me,  a boy,  that  he  gave  the  order  to  move  one  of  the 
fire  brigades  from  the  Ministry  to  the  Bank.  I exclaimed, 
of  course,  that  the  men  would  never  listen  to  me,  and  I 
asked  for  a written  order;  but  General  Annenkoff  had  not, 
or  pretended  not  to  have,  a scrap  of  paper,  so  that  I re- 
quested one  of  our  officers,  L.  L.  Gosse,  to  come  with  me 
to  transmit  the  order.  We  at  last  prevailed  upon  the  cap- 
tain of  one  fire  brigade  — who  swore  at  all  the  world  and 
at  his  chiefs  — to  move  his  men  to  the  Bank. 

The  Ministry  itself  was  not  on  fire  ; it  was  the  archives 
which  were  burning,  and  many  boys,  chiefly  cadets  and 
pages,  together  with  a number  of  clerks,  carried  bundles  of 
papers  out  of  the  burning  building  and  loaded  them  into 
cabs.  Often  a bundle  would  fall  out,  and  tbe  wind,  taking 
possession  of  its  leaves,  would  strew  them  about  the  square. 
Through  the  smoke  a sinister  fire  could  be  seen  raging  in 
the  timber  yards  on  the  other  side  of  the  canal. 

The  narrow  lane  which  separated  the  Corps  of  Pages 
from  the  Apraxin  Dvor  was  in  a deplorable  state.  The 
shops  which  lined  it  were  full  of  brimstone,  oil,  turpentine, 
and  the  like,  and  immense  tongues  of  fire  of  many  hues, 
thrown  out  by  explosions,  licked  the  roofs  of  the  wing  of 


160 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


the  Corps,  which  bordered  the  lane  on  its  other  side.  The 
windows  and  the  pilasters  under  the  roof  began  already  to 
smoulder,  while  the  pages  and  some  cadets,  after  having 
cleared  the  lodgings,  pumped  water  through  a small  fire 
engine,  which  received  at  long  intervals  scanty  supplies 
from  old-fashioned  barrels  which  had  to  be  filled  with 
ladles.  A couple  of  firemen  who  stood  on  the  hot  roof 
continually  shouted  out,  “ Water  ! Water  ! ” in  tones  which 
were  simply  heart-rending.  I could  not  stand  these  cries, 
and  I rushed  into  the  Sadovaya  street,  where  by  sheer  force 
I compelled  the  driver  of  one  of  the  barrels  belonging  to 
a police  fire-brigade  to  enter  our  yard,  and  to  supply  our 
pump  with  water.  But  when  I attempted  to  do  the  same 
once  more,  I met  with  an  absolute  refusal  from  tbe  driver. 
“I  shall  be  court-martialed,”  he  said,  “if  I obey  you.” 
On  all  sides  my  comrades  urged  me,  “ Go  and  find  some- 
body, — the  chief  of  the  police,  the  grand  duke,  any  one,  — 
and  tell  them  that  without  water  we  shall  have  to  abandon 
the  Corps  to  the  fire.”  “ Ought  we  not  to  report  to  our 
director  ? ” somebody  would  remark.  “ Bother  the  whole 
lot ! you  won’t  find  them  with  a lantern.  Go  and  do  it 
yourself.” 

I went  once  more  in  search  of  General  Annenkoff,  and 
was  at  last  told  that  he  must  be  in  the  yard  of  the  Bank. 
Several  officers  stood  there  around  a general  in  whom 
I recognized  tbe  governor-general  of  St.  Petersburg,  Prince 
Suvdroff.  The  gate,  however,  was  locked,  and  a Bank 
official  who  stood  at  it  refused  to  let  me  in.  I insisted, 
menaced,  and  finally  was  admitted.  Then  I went  straight 
to  Prince  Suvoroff,  who  was  writing  a note  on  the  shoulder 
of  his  aide-de-camp. 

When  I reported  to  him  the  state  of  affairs,  his  first 
question  was,  “ Who  has  sent  you  ? ” “ Nobody  — the 

comrades,”  was  my  reply.  “ So  you  say  the  Corps  will 
soon  be  on  fire  ? ” “ Yes.”  He  started  at  once,  and, 


GREAT  FIRE  AT  ST.  PETERSBURG 


161 


seizing  in  the  street  an  empty  hatbox,  covered  his  head 
with  it,  and  ran  full  speed  to  the  lane.  Empty  barrels, 
straw,  wooden  boxes,  and  the  like  covered  the  lane,  be- 
tween the  flames  of  the  oil  shops  on  the  one  side  and  the 
buildings  of  our  Corps,  of  which  the  window  frames  and 
the  pilasters  were  smouldering,  on  the  other  side.  Prince 
Suvdroff  acted  resolutely.  “ There  is  a company  of  soldiers 
in  your  garden,”  he  said  to  me : “ take  a detachment  and 
clear  that  lane  - — at  once.  A hose  from  the  steam  engine 
will  be  brought  here  immediately.  Keep  it  playing.  I trust 
it  to  you  personally.” 

It  was  not  easy  to  move  the  soldiers  out  of  our  garden. 
They  had  cleared  the  barrels  and  boxes  of  their  contents, 
and  with  their  pockets  full  of  coffee,  and  with  conical 
lumps  of  sugar  concealed  in  their  kepis,  they  were  enjoying 
the  warm  night  under  the  trees,  cracking  nuts.  No  one 
cared  to  move  till  an  officer  interfered.  The  lane  was 
cleared,  and  the  pump  kept  going.  The  comrades  were 
delighted,  and  every  twenty  minutes  we  relieved  the  men 
who  directed  the  jet  of  water,  standing  by  their  side  in  a 
terrible  scorching  heat. 

About  three  or  four  in  the  morning  it  was  evident  that 
bounds  had  been  put  to  the  fire  ; the  danger  of  its  spread- 
ing to  the  Corps  was  over,  and  after  having  quenched  our 
thirst  with  half  a dozen  glasses  of  tea,  in  a small  “ white 
inn  ” which  happened  to  be  open,  we  fell,  half  dead  from 
fatigue,  on  the  first  bed  that  we  found  unoccupied  in  the 
hospital  of  the  Corps. 

Next  morning  I woke  up  early  and  went  to  see  the  site 
of  the  conflagration.  On  my  return  to  the  Corps  I met 
the  Grand  Duke  Mikhael,  whom  I accompanied,  as  was  my 
duty,  on  his  round.  The  pages,  with  their  faces  quite 
black  from  the  smoke,  with  swollen  eyes  and  inflamed  lids, 
some  of  them  with  their  hair  burned,  raised  their  heads 
from  the  pillows.  It  was  hard  to  recognize  them.  They 


162 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


were  proud,  though,  of  feeling  that  they  had  not  been 
merely  “ white  hands,”  and  had  worked  as  hard  as  any 
one  else. 

This  visit  of  the  grand  duke  settled  my  difficulties.  He 
asked  me  why  I conceived  that  fancy  of  going  to  the 
Amur,  — whether  I had  friends  there,  whether  the 
governor-general  knew  me ; and  learning  that  I had  no 
relatives  in  Siberia,  and  knew  nobody  there,  he  exclaimed, 
“ But  how  are  you  going,  then  ? They  may  send  you  to  a 
lonely  Cossack  village.  What  will  you  do  there  ? I had 
better  write  about  you  to  the  governor-general,  to  recom- 
mend you.” 

After  such  an  offer  I was  sure  that  my  father’s  objec- 
tions would  be  removed,  — and  so  it  proved.  I was  free  to 
go  to  Siberia. 

This  great  conflagration  became  a turning-point  not  only 
in  the  policy  of  Alexander  II.,  but  also  in  the  history  of 
Russia  for  that  part  of  the  century.  That  it  was  not  a 
mere  accident  was  self-evident.  Trinity  and  the  day  of 
the  Holy  Ghost  are  great  holidays  in  Russia,  and  there 
was  nobody  inside  the  market  except  a few  watchmen ; be- 
sides, the  Apriixin  market  and  the  timber  yards  took  fire 
at  the  same  time,  and  the  conflagration  at  St.  Petersburg 
was  followed  by  similar  disasters  in  several  provincial 
towns.  The  fire  was  lit  by  somebody,  but  by  whom  ? 
This  question  remains  unanswered  to  the  present  time. 

Katkoff,  the  ex- Whig,  who  was  inspired  with  personal 
hatred  of  Herzen,  and  especially  of  Bakunin,  with  whom  he 
had  once  to  fight  a duel,  on  the  very  day  after  the  fire 
accused  the  Poles  and  the  Russian  revolutionists  of  being 
the  cause  of  it ; and  that  opinion  prevailed  at  St.  Petersburg 
and  at  Moscow. 

Poland  was  preparing  then  for  the  revolution  which  broke 
tut  in  the  following  January,  and  the  se  :ret  revolutionary 


THE  FIRE  NOT  AN  ACCIDENT 


163 


government  had  concluded  an  alliance  with  the  London 
refugees  ; it  had  its  men  in  the  very  heart  of  the  St.  Peters- 
burg administration.  Only  a short  time  after  the  confla- 
gration occurred,  the  lord  lieutenant  of  Poland,  Count 
Ltiders,  was  shot  at  by  a Russian  officer  ; and  when  the 
Grand  Duke  Constantine  was  nominated  in  his  place  (with 
the  intention,  it  was  said,  of  making  Poland  a separate 
kingdom  for  Constantine),  he  also  was  immediately  shot  at, 
on  June  26.  Similar  attempts  were  made  in  August  against 
the  Marquis  Wielepolsky,  the  Polish  leader  of  the  pro- 
Russian  Union  party.  Napoleon  III.  maintained  among 
the  Poles  the  hope  of  an  armed  intervention  in  favor  of 
their  independence.  In  such  conditions,  judging  from  the 
ordinary  narrow  military  standpoint,  to  destroy  the  Bank  of 
Russia  and  several  Ministries,  and  to  spread  a panic  in  the 
capital,  might  have  been  considered  a good  plan  of  warfare; 
but  there  never  was  the  slightest  scrap  of  evidence  forth- 
coming to  support  this  hypothesis. 

On  the  other  side,  the  advanced  parties  in  Russia  saw 
that  no  hope  could  any  longer  be  placed  in  Alexander’s 
reformatory  initiative : he  was  clearly  drifting  into  the  reac- 
tionary camp.  To  men  of  forethought  it  was  evident  that 
the  liberation  of  the  serfs,  under  the  conditions  of  redemp- 
tion which  were  imposed  upon  them,  meant  their  certain 
ruin,  and  revolutionary  proclamations  were  issued  in  May, 
at  St.  Petersburg,  calling  the  people  and  the  army  to  a 
general  revolt,  while  the  educated  classes  were  asked  to  in 
sist  upon  the  necessity  of  a national  convention.  Unde 
such  circumstances,  to  disorganize  the  machine  of  the  gov- 
ernment might  have  entered  into  the  plans  of  some  revolu- 
tionists. 

Finally,  the  indefinite  character  of  the  emancipation  had 
produced  a great  deal  of  fermentation  among  the  peasants, 
who  constitute  a considerable  part  of  the  population  in  all 
Russian  cities ; and  through  all  the  history  of  Russia,  every 


164 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


time  such  a fermentation  has  begun,  it  has  resulted  in 
anonymous  letters  foretelling  fires,  and  eventually  in  incen- 
diarism. 

It  was  possible  that  the  idea  of  setting  the  Apraxin  mar- 
ket on  fire  might  occur  to  isolated  men  in  the  revolutionary 
tamp,  but  neither  the  most  searching  inquiries  nor  the 
wholesale  arrests  which  began  all  over  Russia  and  Poland 
immediately  after  the  fire  revealed  the  slightest  indication 
that  such  was  really  the  case.  If  anything  of  the  sort  had 
been  found,  the  reactionary  party  would  have  made  capital 
out  of  it.  Many  reminiscences  and  volumes  of  correspond- 
ence from  those  times  have  since  been  published,  but  they 
contain  no  hint  whatever  in  support  of  this  suspicion. 

On  the  contrary,  when  similar  conflagrations  broke  out 
in  several  towns  on  the  Volga,  and  especially  at  Saratoff, 
and  when  Zhdanoff,  a member  of  the  Senate,  was  sent  by 
the  Tsar  to  make  a searching  inquiry,  he  returned  with  the 
firm  conviction  that  the  conflagration  at  Saratoff  was  the 
work  of  the  reactionary  party.  There  was  among  that 
party  a general  belief  that  it  would  be  possible  to  induce 
Alexander  II.  to  postpone  the  final  abolition  of  serfdom, 
which  was  to  take  place  on  February  19,  1863.  They 
knew  the  weakness  of  his  character,  and  immediately  after 
the  great  fire  at  St.  Petersburg,  they  began  a violent  cam- 
paign for  postponement,  and  for  the  revision  of  the  eman- 
cipation law  in  its  practical  applications.  It  was  rumored 
in  well-informed  legal  circles  that  Senator  Zhdanoff  was 
in  fact  returning  with  positive  proofs  of  the  culpability  of 
the  reactionaries  at  Sarfitoff;  but  he  died  on  his  way  back, 
his  portfolio  disappeared,  and  it  has  never  been  found. 

Be  it  as  it  may,  the  Aprdxin  fire  had  the  most  deplora- 
ble consequences.  After  it  Alexander  II.  surrendered  to 
the  reactionaries,  and  — what  was  still  worse  — the  public 
opinion  of  that  part  of  society  at  St.  Petersburg,  and  espe- 
cially at  Moscow,  which  carried  most  weight  with  the 


REACTIONARY  MOVEMENT 


165 


government  suddenly  threw  off  its  liberal  garb,  and  turned 
against  not  only  the  more  advanced  section  of  the  reform 
party,  but  even  against  its  moderate  wing.  A few  days 
after  the  conflagration,  I went  on  Sunday  to  see  my  cousin, 
the  aide-de-camp  of  the  Emperor,  in  whose  apartment  1 
had  often  seen  the  Horse  Guard  officers  in  sympathy  with 
Chernyshevsky  ; my  cousin  himself  had  been  up  till  then  an 
assiduous  reader  of  “ The  Contemporary  ” (the  organ  of  the 
advanced  reform  party).  Now  he  brought  several  numbers 
of  “ The  Contemporary,”  and,  putting  them  on  the  table  I 
was  sitting  at,  said  to  me,  “ Well,  now,  after  this  I will  have 
no  more  of  that  incendiary  stuff ; enough  of  it,”  — and 
these  words  expressed  the  opinion  of  “ all  St.  Petersburg.” 
It  became  improper  to  talk  of  reforms.  The  whole  atmo- 
sphere was  laden  with  a reactionary  spirit.  “ The  Contem- 
porary ” and  other  similar  reviews  were  suppressed ; the 
Sunday-schools  were  prohibited  under  any  form  ; whole- 
sale arrests  began.  The  capital  was  placed  under  a state 
of  siege. 

A fortnight  later,  on  June  13  (25),  the  time  which  we 
pages  and  cadets  had  so  long  looked  for  came  at  last.  The 
Emperor  gave  us  a sort  of  military  examination  in  all  kinds 
of  evolutions,  — during  which  we  commanded  the  compa- 
nies, and  I paraded  on  a horse  before  the  battalion,  — and 
we  were  promoted  to  be  officers. 

When  the  parade  was  over,  Alexander  II.  loudly  called 
out,  “ The  promoted  officers  to  me ! ” and  we  gathered 
round  him.  He  remained  on  horseback. 

Here  I saw  him  in  a quite  new  light.  The  man  who 
the  next  year  appeared  in  the  role  of  a bloodthirsty  and 
vindictive  suppressor  of  the  insurrection  in  Poland  rose 
now,  full  size,  before  my  eyes,  in  the  speech  he  addressed 
to  us. 

He  began  in  a quiet  tone.  “ I congratulate  you : you 


166 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


are  officers.”  He  spoke  about  military  duty  and  loyalty 
as  they  are  usually  spoken  of  on  such  occasions.  “ But  if 
any  one  of  you,”  he  went  on,  distinctly  shouting  out  every 
word,  his  face  suddenly  contorted  with  anger,  — “ but  if  any 
one  of  you  — which  God  preserve  you  from  — should  under 
any  circumstances  prove  disloyal  to  the  Tsar,  the  throne, 
and  the  fatherland,  take  heed  of  what  I say,  — he  will 
be  treated  with  all  the  se-veri-ty  of  the  laws,  without  the 
slightest  com-mi-se-ra-tion ! ” 

His  voice  failed ; his  face  was  peevish,  full  of  that  expres- 
sion of  blind  rage  which  I saw  in  my  childhood  on  the  faces 
of  landlords  wffien  they  threatened  their  serfs  “ to  skin  them 
under  the  rods.”  He  violently  spurred  his  horse,  and  rode 
out  of  our  circle.  Next  morning,  the  14th  of  June,  by 
his  orders,  three  officers  were  shot  at  Mddlin  in  Poland,  and 
one  soldier,  Szur  by  name,  was  killed  under  the  rods. 

“Reaction,  full  speed  backwards,”  I said  to  myself,  as 
we  made  our  way  back  to  the  Corps. 

I saw  Alexander  II.  once  more  before  leaving  St.  Peters- 
burg. Some  days  after  our  promotion,  all  the  newly  ap- 
pointed officers  were  at  the  palace,  to  be  presented  to  him. 
My  more  than  modest  uniform,  with  its  prominent  gray 
trousers,  attracted  universal  attention,  and  every  moment  I 
had  to  satisfy  the  curiosity  of  officers  of  all  ranks,  who 
came  to  ask  me  what  was  the  uniform  that  I wore.  The 
Amur  Cossacks  being  then  the  youngest  regiment  of  the 
Russian  army,  I stood  somewhere  near  the  end  of  the  hun- 
dreds of  officers  who  were  present.  Alexander  II.  found 
me,  and  asked,  “ So  you  go  to  Siberia  ? Did  your  father 
consent  to  it,  after  all  ? ” I answered  in  the  affirmative. 
“ Are  you  not  afraid  to  go  so  far  ? ” I warmly  replied, 
“ No,  I want  to  work.  There  must  be  so  much  to  do  in 
Siberia  to  apply  the  great  reforms  -which  are  going  to  be 
made.”  He  looked  straight  at  me ; he  became  pensive  ; at 


DEPARTURE  FOR  SIBERIA 


167 


last  he  said,  “ Well,  go  ; one  can  be  useful  everywhere ; ” 
and  his  face  took  on  such  an  expression  of  fatigue,  such  a 
character  of  complete  surrender,  that  I thought  at  once, 
“ He  is  a used-up  man ; he  is  going  to  give  it  all  up.” 

St.  Petersburg  had  assumed  a gloomy  aspect.  Soldiers 
inarched  in  the  streets,  Cossack  patrols  rode  round  the  pal- 
ace, the  fortress  was  filled  with  prisoners.  Wherever  I 
went  I saw  the  same  thing,  — the  triumph  of  the  reaction. 
I left  St.  Petersburg  without  regret. 

I went  every  day  to  the  Cossack  administration  to  ask 
them  to  make  haste  and  deliver  me  my  papers,  and  as  soon 
as  they  were  ready,  I hurried  to  Moscow  to  join  my  bro* 
ther  Alexander. 


n 


The  five  years  that  I spent  in  Siberia  vrere  for  me  a 
genuine  education  in  life  and  human  character.  I was 
brought  into  contact  with  men  of  all  descriptions : the  best 
and  the  worst ; those  who  stood  at  the  top  of  society  and 
those  who  vegetated  at  the  very  bottom,  — the  tramps  and  the 
so-called  incorrigible  criminals.  I had  ample  opportunities  to 
watch  the  ways  and  habits  of  the  peasants  in  their  daily  life, 
and  still  more  opportunities  to  appreciate  how  little  the  state 
administration  could  give  to  them,  even  if  it  was  animated 
by  the  very  best  intentions.  Finally,  my  extensive  jour- 
neys, during  which  I traveled  over  fifty  thousand  miles  in 
carts,  on  board  steamers,  in  boats,  but  chiefly  on  horseback, 
had  a wonderful  effect  in  strengthening  my  health.  They 
also  taught  me  how  little  man  really  needs  as  soon  as  he 
comes  out  of  the  enchanted  circle  of  conventional  civiliza- 
tion. With  a few  pounds  of  bread  and  a few  ounces  of  tea 
in  a leather  bag,  a kettle  and  a hatchet  hanging  at  the  side 
of  the  saddle,  and  under  the  saddle  a blanket,  to  be  spread 
at  the  camp-fire  upon  a bed  of  freshly  cut  spruce  twigs,  a 
man  feels  wonderfully  independent,  even  amidst  unknown 
mountains  thickly  clothed  with  woods,  or  capped  with 
snow.  A book  might  be  written  about  this  part  of  my  life, 
but  I must  rapidly  glide  over  it  here,  there  being  so  much 
more  to  say  about  the  later  periods. 

Siberia  is  not  the  frozen  land  buried  in  snow  and  peopled 
with  exiles  only,  that  it  is  imagined  to  be,  even  by  many 
Russians.  In  its  southern  parts  it  is  as  rich  in  natural 
productions  as  are  the  southern  parts  of  Canada,  which  it 
resembles  so  much  in  its  physical  aspects  j and  beside  half 


ARRIVAL  AT  IRKUTSK 


169 


a million  of  natives,  it  has  a population  of  more  than  four 
millions  of  Russians.  The  southern  parts  of  West  Siberia 
are  as  thoroughly  Russian  as  the  provinces  to  the  north 
of  Moscow.  In  1862  the  upper  administration  of  Siberia 
was  far  more  enlightened  and  far  better  all  round  than  that 
of  any  province  of  Russia  proper.  For  several  years  the 
post  of  governor-general  of  East  Siberia  had  been  occupied 
by  a remarkable  personage,  Count  N.  N.  Muravidff,  who 
annexed  the  Amur  region  to  Russia.  He  was  very  intelli- 
gent, very  active,  extremely  amiable,  and  desirous  to  work 
for  the  good  of  the  country.  Like  all  men  of  action  of 
the  governmental  school,  he  was  a despot  at  the  bottom  of 
his  heart ; but  he  held  advanced  opinions,  and  a democratic 
republic  would  not  have  quite  satisfied  him.  He  had  suc- 
ceeded to  a great  extent  in  getting  rid  of  the  old  staff  of 
civil  service  officials,  who  considered  Siberia  a camp  to  be 
plundered,  and  he  had  gathered  around  him  a number  of 
young  officials,  quite  honest,  and  many  of  them  animated 
by  the  same  excellent  intentions  as  himself.  In  his  own 
study,  the  young  officers,  with  the  exile  Bakunin  among 
them  (he  escaped  from  Siberia  in  the  autumn  of  1861),  dis- 
cussed the  chances  of  creating  the  United  States  of  Siberia, 
federated  across  the  Pacific  Ocean  with  the  United  States 
of  America. 

When  I came  to  Irkutsk,  the  capital  of  East  Siberia,  the 
wave  of  reaction  which  I saw  rising  at  St.  Petersburg  had 
not  yet  reached  these  distant  dominions.  I was  very  well 
received  by  the  young  governor-general,  Kors&koff,  who 
had  just  succeeded  Muravidff,  and  he  told  me  that  he  was 
delighted  to  have  about  him  men  of  liberal  opinions.  As 
to  the  commander  of  the  general  staff,  Kukel,  — a young 
general  not  yet  thirty-five  years  old,  whose  personal  aide- 
de-camp  I became,  — he  at  once  took  me  to  a room  in  his 
house,  where  I found,  together  with  the  best  Russian 


170 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


reviews,  complete  collections  of  the  London  revolutionary 
editions  of  Herzen.  We  were  soon  warm  friends. 

General  Kukel  temporarily  occupied  at  that  time  the 
post  of  governor  of  Transbaikalia,  and  a few  weeks  later  we 
crossed  the  beautiful  Lake  Baikal  and  went  further  east,  to 
the  little  town  of  Chita,  the  capital  of  the  province.  There 
I had  to  give  myself,  heart  and  soul,  without  loss  of  time, 
to  the  great  reforms  which  were  then  under  discussion. 
The  St.  Petersburg  ministries  had  applied  to  the  local 
authorities,  asking  them  to  work  out  schemes  of  complete 
reform  in  the  administration  of  the  provinces,  the  organiza- 
tion of  the  police,  the  tribunals,  the  prisons,  the  system  of 
exile,  the  self-government  of  the  townships,  — all  on  broadly 
liberal  bases  laid  down  by  the  Emperor  in  his  manifestoes. 

Kukel,  supported  by  an  intelligent  and  practical  man, 
Colonel  Pedashenko,  and  a couple  of  well-meaning  civil 
service  officials,  worked  all  day  long,  and  often  a good  deal 
of  the  night.  I became  the  secretary  of  two  committees,  — 
for  the  reform  of  the  prisons  and  the  whole  system  of  exile, 
and  for  preparing  a scheme  of  municipal  self-government, 
— and  I set  to  work  with  all  the  enthusiasm  of  a youth 
of  nineteen  years.  I read  much  about  the  historical  devel- 
opment of  these  institutions  in  Russia  and  their  present 
condition  abroad,  excellent  works  and  papers  dealing  with 
these  subjects  having  been  published  by  the  ministries  of 
the  interior  and  of  justice  ; but  what  we  did  in  Transbaika- 
lia was  by  no  means  merely  theoretical.  I discussed  first 
the  general  outlines,  and  subsequently  every  point  of  detail, 
with  practical  men,  well  acquainted  with  the  real  needs 
and  the  local  possibilities ; and  for  that  purpose  I met  a 
considerable  number  of  men  both  in  town  and  in  the  pro- 
vince. Then  the  conclusions  we  arrived  at  were  re-dis- 
cussed with  Kukel  and  Pedashenko ; and  when  I had  put 
the  results  into  a preliminary  shape,  every  point  was  again 
very  thoroughly  thrashed  out  in  the  committees.  One  of 


REFORM  ACTIVITIES 


171 


these  committees,  for  preparing  the  municipal  government 
scheme,  was  composed  of  citizens  of  Chita,  elected  by  all 
the  population,  as  freely  as  they  might  have  been  elected 
in  the  United  States.  In  short,  our  work  was  very  seri- 
ous ; and  even  now,  looking  back  at  it  through  the  per- 
spective of  so  many  years,  I can  say  in  full  confidence  that 
if  municipal  self-government  had  been  granted  then,  in  the 
modest  shape  which  we  gave  to  it,  the  towns  of  Siberia 
would  be  very  different  from  what  they  are.  But  nothing 
came  of  it  all,  as  will  presently  be  seen. 

There  was  no  lack  of  other  incidental  occupations. 
Money  had  to  be  found  for  the  support  of  charitable  insti- 
tutions ; an  economic  description  of  the  province  had  to  be 
written  in  connection  with  a local  agricultural  exhibition  ; 
or  some  serious  inquiry  had  to  be  made.  “ It  is  a great 
epoch  we  live  in ; work,  my  dear  friend ; remember  that 
you  are  the  secretary  of  all  existing  and  future  committees,” 
Kukel  would  sometimes  say  to  me,  — and  I worked  with 
doubled  energy. 

An  example  or  two  will  show  with  what  results.  There 
was  in  our  province  a “ district  chief  ” — that  is,  a police 
officer  invested  with  very  wide  and  indeterminate  rights  — 
who  was  simply  a disgrace.  He  robbed  the  peasants  and 
flogged  them  right  and  left,  — even  women,  which  was 
against  the  law ; and  when  a criminal  affair  fell  into  his 
hands,  it  might  lie  there  for  months,  men  being  kept  in  the 
meantime  in  prison  till  they  gave  him  a bribe.  Kukel 
would  have  dismissed  this  man  long  before,  but  the  governor- 
general  did  not  like  the  idea  of  it,  because  he  had  strong 
protectors  at  St.  Petersburg.  After  much  hesitation,  it  was 
decided  at  last  that  I should  go  to  make  an  investigation  on 
the  spot,  and  collect  evidence  against  the  man.  This  was 
not  by  any  means  easy,  because  the  peasants,  terrorized  by 
him,  and  well  knowing  an  old  Russian  saying,  “ God  is  far 
tway,  while  your  chief  is  your  next-door  neighbor,”  did  not 


172 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


dare  to  testify.  Even  the  woman  he  had  flogged  was  afraid 
at  first  to  make  a written  statement.  It  was  only  after  I 
had  stayed  a fortnight  with  the  peasants,  and  had  won  their 
confidence,  that  the  misdeeds  of  their  chief  could  be  brought 
to  light.  I collected  crushing  evidence,  and  the  district- 
chief  was  dismissed.  We  congratulated  ourselves  on  having 
got  rid  of  such  a pest.  What  was,  however,  our  astonish- 
ment when,  a few  months  later,  we  learned  that  this  same 
man  had  been  nominated  to  a higher  post  in  Kamchatka ! 
There  he  could  plunder  the  natives  free  of  any  control,  and 
so  he  did.  A few  years  later  he  returned  to  St.  Petersburg 
a rich  man.  The  articles  he  occasionally  contributes  now 
to  the  reactionary  press  are,  as  one  might  expect,  full  of  high 
“patriotic”  spirit. 

The  wave  of  reaction,  as  I have  already  said,  had  not 
then  reached  Siberia,  and  the  political  exiles  continued  to 
be  treated  with  all  possible  leniency,  as  in  MuravidfFs  time. 
When,  in  1861,  the  poet  Mikhailoff  was  condemned  to  hard 
labor  for  a revolutionary  proclamation  which  he  had  issued, 
and  was  sent  to  Siberia,  the  governor  of  the  first  Siberian 
town  on  his  way,  Tobolsk,  gave  a dinner  in  his  honor,  in 
which  all  the  officials  took  part.  In  Transbaikdlia  he  was 
not  kept  at  hard  labor,  but  was  allowed  officially  to  stay  in 
the  hospital  prison  of  a small  mining  village.  His  health 
being  very  poor,  — he  was  dying  from  consumption,  and  did 
actually  die  a few  months  later,  — General  Kukel  gave  him 
permission  to  stay  in  the  house  of  his  brother,  a mining 
engineer,  who  had  rented  a gold  mine  from  the  Crown  on 
his  own  account.  Unofficially  that  was  well  known  all  over 
Siberia.  But  one  day  we  learned  from  Irkutsk  that,  in 
consequence  of  a secret  denunciation,  the  general  of  the 
gendarmes  (state  police)  was  on  his  way  to  Chita,  to  make 
a strict  inquiry  into  the  affair.  An  aide-de-camp  of  the 
governor-general  brought  us  the  news.  I was  dispatched  in 
great  haste  to  warn  Mikhdiloff,  and  to  tell  him  that  h«  must 


THE  WAVE  OF  REACTION 


173 


return  at  once  to  the  hospital  prison,  while  the  general  of 
the  gendarmes  was  kept  at  Chita.  As  that  gentleman 
found  himself  every  night  the  winner  of  considerable  sums 
of  money  at  the  green  table  in  Kukel’s  house,  he  soon 
decided  not  to  exchange  this  pleasant  pastime  for  a long 
journey  to  the  mines  in  a temperature  which  was  then  a 
dozen  degrees  below  the  freezing-point  of  mercury,  and 
eventually  went  back  to  Irkutsk,  quite  satisfied  with  his 
lucrative  mission. 

The  storm,  however,  was  coming  nearer  and  nearer,  and 
it  swept  everything  before  it  soon  after  the  insurrection 
broke  out  in  Poland. 


m 


In  January,  1863,  Poland  rose  against  Russian  rule. 
Insurrectionary  bands  were  formed,  and  a war  began  which 
lasted  for  full  eighteen  months.  The  London  refugees  had 
implored  the  Polish  revolutionary  committees  to  postpone 
the  movement.  They  foresaw  that  it  would  be  crushed, 
and  would  put  an  end  to  the  reform  period  in  Russia.  But 
it  could  not  be  helped.  The  repression  of  the  nationalist 
manifestations  which  took  place  at  Warsaw  in  1861,  and  the 
cruel,  quite  unprovoked  executions  which  followed,  exas- 
perated the  Poles.  The  die  was  cast. 

Never  before  had  the  Polish  cause  so  many  sympathizers 
in  Russia  as  at  that  time.  I do  not  speak  of  the  revo- 
lutionists ; but  even  among  the  more  moderate  elements  of 
Russian  society  it  was  thought,  and  was  openly  said,  that  it 
would  be  a benefit  for  Russia  to  have  in  Poland  a friendly 
neighbor  instead  of  a hostile  subject.  Poland  will  never 
lose  her  national  character,  it  is  too  strongly  developed ; 
she  has,  and  will  have,  her  own  literature,  her  own  art  and 
industry.  Russia  can  keep  her  in  servitude  only  by  means 
of  sheer  force  and  oppression,  — a condition  of  things  which 
has  hitherto  favored,  and  necessarily  will  favor,  oppression 
in  Russia  herself.  Even  the  peaceful  Slavophiles  were  of 
that  opinion ; and  while  I was  at  school,  St.  Petersburg 
society  greeted  with  full  approval  the  “ dream  ” which  th( 
Slavophile  Ivan  Aksakoff  had  the  courage  to  print  in  his 
paper,  “ The  Day.”  His  dream  was  that  the  Russian  troops 
had  evacuated  Poland,  and  he  discussed  the  excellent  results 
which  would  follow. 

When  the  revolution  of  1863  broke  out,  several  Russian 


THE  POLISH  INSURRECTION 


175 


officers  refused  to  march  against  the  Poles,  while  others 
openly  took  their  part,  and  died  either  on  the  scaffold  or  on 
the  battlefield.  Funds  for  the  insurrection  were  collected 
all  over  Russia,  ■ — quite  openly  in  Siberia,  — and  in  the 
Russian  universities  the  students  equipped  those  of  their 
comrades  who  were  going  to  join  the  revolutionists. 

Then,  amidst  this  effervescence,  the  news  spread  over 
Russia  that,  during  the  night  of  January  10,  bands  of  in- 
surgents had  fallen  upon  the  soldiers  who  were  cantoned  in 
the  villages,  and  had  murdered  them  in  their  beds,  although 
on  the  very  eve  of  that  day  the  relations  of  the  troops  with 
the  Poles  seemed  to  be  quite  friendly.  There  was  some 
exaggeration  in  the  report,  but  unfortunately  there  was  also 
truth  in  it,  and  the  impression  it  produced  in  Russia  was 
most  disastrous.  The  old  antipathies  between  the  two 
nations,  so  akin  in  their  origins,  but  so  different  in  their 
national  characters,  woke  once  more. 

Gradually  the  bad  feeling  faded  away  to  some  extent. 
The  gallant  fight  of  the  always  brave  sons  of  Poland,  and 
the  indomitable  energy  with  which  they  resisted  a formid- 
able army,  won  sympathy  for  that  heroic  nation.  But  it 
became  known  that  the  Polish  revolutionary  committee,  in 
its  demand  for  the  reestablishment  of  Poland  with  its  old 
frontiers,  included  the  Little  Russian  or  Ukrainian  pro- 
vinces, the  Greek  Orthodox  population  of  which  hated  its 
Polish  rulers,  and  more  than  once  in  the  course  of  the  last 
three  centuries  had  slaughtered  them  wholesale.  Moreover, 
Napoleon  III.  began  to  menace  Russia  with  a new  war,  — 
a vain  menace,  which  did  more  harm  to  the  Poles  than  all 
other  things  put  together.  And  finally,  the  radical  elements 
of  Russia  saw  with  regret  that  now  the  purely  nationalist 
elements  of  Poland  had  got  the  upper  hand,  the  revolution- 
ary government  did  not  care  in  the  least  to  grant  the  land 
to  the  serfs,  — a blunder  of  which  the  Russian  government 
did  not  fail  to  take  advantage,  in  order  to  appear  in  the 


176 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


position  of  protector  of  the  peasants  against  their  Polish 
landlords. 

When  the  revolution  broke  out  in  Poland,  it  was  gener- 
ally believed  in  Russia  that  it  would  take  a democratic, 
republican  turn  ; and  that  the  liberation  of  the  serfs  on  a 
broad  democratic  basis  would  be  the  first  thing  which  a 
revolutionary  government,  fighting  for  the  independence  of 
the  country,  would  accomplish. 

The  emancipation  law,  as  it  had  been  enacted  at  St. 
Petersburg  in  1861,  provided  ample  opportunity  for  such  a 
course  of  action.  The  personal  obligations  of  the  serfs  to 
their  owners  came  to  an  end  only  on  the  19th  of  February, 
1863.  Then,  a very  slow  process  had  to  be  gone  through 
in  order  to  obtain  a sort  of  agreement  between  the  landlords 
and  the  serfs  as  to  the  size  and  the  location  of  the  land 
allotments  which  were  to  be  given  to  the  liberated  serfs. 
The  yearly  payments  for  these  allotments  (disproportion- 
ally  high)  were  fixed  by  law  at  so  much  per  acre ; but 
the  peasants  had  also  to  pay  an  additional  sum  for  their 
homesteads,  and  of  this  sum  the  maximum  only  had  been 
fixed  by  the  statute,  — it  having  been  thought  that  the 
landlords  might  be  induced  to  forego  that  additional  pay- 
ment, or  to  be  satisfied  with  only  a part  of  it.  As  to  the 
so-called  “ redemption  ” of  the  land,  — in  which  case  the 
government  undertook  to  pay  the  landlord  its  full  value  in 
state  bonds,  and  the  peasants,  receiving  the  land,  had  to 
pay  in  return,  for  forty-nine  years,  six  per  cent,  on  that 
sum  as  interest  and  annuities,  — not  only  were  these  pay- 
ments extravagant  and  ruinous  for  the  peasants,  but  no 
time  was  fixed  for  the  redemption.  It  was  left  to  the  will 
of  the  landlord,  and  in  an  immense  number  of  cases  the 
redemption  arrangements  had  not  even  been  entered  upon, 
twenty  years  after  the  emancipation. 

Under  such  conditions  a revolutionary  government  had 


I 


EMANCIPATION  OF  POLISH  SERFS 


177 


ample  opportunity  for  immensely  improving  upon  the  Rus- 
sian law.  It  was  bound  to  accomplish  an  act  of  justice 
towards  the  serfs  — whose  condition  in  Poland  was  as  bad 
as,  and  often  worse  than  in  Russia  itself  — by  granting 
them  better  and  more  definite  terms  of  emancipation.  But 
nothing  of  the  sort  was  done.  The  purely  nationalist  party 
and  the  aristocratic  party  having  obtained  the  upper  hand 
in  the  movement,  this  fundamentally  important  matter  was 
left  out  of  sight.  This  made  it  easy  for  the  Russian  gov- 
ernment to  win  the  peasants  to  its  side. 

Full  advantage  was  taken  of  this  mistake  when  Nicholas 
Milutin  was  sent  to  Poland  by  Alexander  II.  with  the  mission 
of  liberating  the  peasants  in  the  way  he  intended  doing  it  in 
Russia,  — whether  the  landlords  were  ruined  in  consequence 
or  not.  “ Go  to  Poland  ; apply  there  your  Red  programme 
against  the  Polish  landlords,”  said  Alexander  II.  to  him  ; 
and  Milutin,  together  with  Prince  Cherkassky  and  many 
others,  really  did  their  best  to  take  the  land  from  the  land- 
lords and  give  good-sized  allotments  to  the  peasants. 

I once  met  one  of  the  Russian  functionaries  who  went 
to  Poland  under  Milutin  and  Prince  Cherkassky.  “ We 
had  full  liberty,”  he  said  to  me,  “ to  turn  over  the  land 
to  the  peasants.  My  usual  plan  was  to  go  and  to  convoke 
the  peasants’  assembly.  ‘ Tell  me  first,’  I would  say,  ‘ what 
land  do  you  hold  at  this  moment  ? ’ They  would  point 
it  out  to  me.  ‘ Is  this  all  the  land  you  ever  held  ? ’ I 
would  then  ask.  ‘ Surely  not,’  they  would  reply  with 
one  voice.  ‘ Years  ago  these  meadows  were  ours  ; this 
wood  was  once  in  our  possession ; these  fields,  too,’  they 
would  say.  I would  let  them  go  on  talking  all  over  and 
then  would  ask  : ‘ Now,  which  of  you  can  certify  under  oath 
that  this  land  or  that  land  has  ever  been  held  by  you  ? ’ Of 
course  there  would  be  nobody  forthcoming,  — it  was  all  too 
long  ago.  At  last,  some  old  man  would  be  thrust  out  from 
the  crowd,  the  rest  saying  : ‘ He  knows  all  about  it;  he  can 


178 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


swear  to  it.’  The  old  man  would  begin  a long  story  about 
what  he  knew  in  his  youth,  or  had  heard  from  his  father, 
but  I would  cut  the  story  short.  . . . ‘ State  on  oath  what 
you  know  to  have  been  held  by  the  gmina  (the  village 
community),  and  the  land  is  yours.’  And  as  soon  as  he 
took  the  oath  — one  could  trust  that  oath  implicitly  — I 
wrote  out  the  papers  and  declared  to  the  assembly  : ‘ Now, 
this  land  is  yours.  You  stand  no  longer  under  any  obli- 
gations whatever  to  your  late  masters:  you  are  simply  their 
neighbors ; all  you  will  have  to  do  is  to  pay  the  redemption 
tax,  so  much  every  year,  to  the  government.  Your  home- 
steads go  with  the  land  : you  get  them  free.’  ” 

One  can  imagine  the  effect  which  such  a policy  had  upon 
the  peasants.  A cousin  of  mine,  Petr  Nikolaevich  Kro- 
pdtkin,  a brother  of  the  aide-de-camp  whom  I have  men- 
tioned, was  in  Poland  or  in  Lithuania  with  his  regiment  of 
uhlans  of  the  guard.  The  revolution  was  so  serious  that 
even  the  regiments  of  the  guard  had  been  sent  from  St. 
Petersburg  against  it,  and  it  is  now  known  that  when 
Mikhael  Muravidff  was  sent  to  Lithuania  and  came  to  take 
leave  of  the  Empress  Marie,  she  said  to  him : “ Save  at 
least  Lithuania  for  Russia ! ” Poland  was  regarded  as  lost. 

“ The  armed  bands  of  the  revolutionists  held  the  coun- 
try,” my  cousin  said  to  me,  “ and  we  were  powerless  to 
defeat  them,  or  even  to  find  them.  Small  bands  over  and 
over  again  attacked  our  smaller  detachments,  and  as  they 
fought  admirably,  and  knew  the  country,  and  found  support 
in  the  population,  they  often  had  the  best  of  the  skirmishes. 
We  were  thus  compelled  to  march  in  large  columns  only. 
We  would  cross  a region,  marching  through  the  woods, 
without  finding  any  trace  of  the  bands ; but  w-hen  wo 
marched  back  again,  we  learned  that  bands  had  reappeared 
in  our  rear ; that  they  had  levied  the  patriotic  tax  in  the 
country  ; and  if  some  peasant  had  rendered  himself  useful 
in  any  way  to  our  troops,  we  found  him  hanged  on  a tree 


EFFECTS  OF  THE  REVOLT 


179 


by  the  revolutionary  bands.  So  it  went  on  for  months, 
with  no  chance  of  improvement,  until  Milutin  and  Cher- 
kassky came  and  freed  the  peasants,  giving  them  the  land. 
Then  — all  was  over.  The  peasants  sided  with  us  ; they 
helped  us  to  capture  the  bands,  and  the  insurrection  came 
to  an  end.” 

I often  spoke  with  the  Polish  exiles  in  Siberia  upon  this 
subject,  and  some  of  them  understood  the  mistake  that  had 
been  made.  A revolution,  from  its  very  outset,  must  be 
an  act  of  justice  towards  “the  downtrodden  and  the  op- 
pressed,” not  a promise  of  such  reparation  later  on  ; other- 
wise it  is  sure  to  fail.  Unfortunately,  it  often  happens 
that  the  leaders  are  so  much  absorbed  with  mere  questions 
of  military  tactics  that  they  forget  the  main  thing.  For 
revolutionists  not  to  succeed  in  proving  to  the  masses  that 
a new  era  has  really  begun  for  them  is  to  insure  the  certain 
failure  of  their  cause. 

The  disastrous  consequences  for  Poland  of  this  revo- 
lution are  known ; they  belong  to  the  domain  of  history. 
How  many  thousand  men  perished  in  battle,  how  many 
hundreds  were  hanged,  and  how  many  scores  of  thousands 
were  transported  to  various  provinces  of  Russia  and  Sibe- 
ria is  not  yet  fully  known.  But  even  the  official  figures 
which  were  printed  in  Russia  a few  years  ago  show  that  in 
the  Lithuanian  provinces  alone  — not  to  speak  of  Poland 
proper  — that  terrible  man,  Mikhael  Muravidff,  to  whom 
the  Russian  government  has  just  erected  a monument  af 
Wilno,  hanged  by  his  own  authority  128  Poles,  and  trans- 
ported to  Russia  and  Siberia  9423  men  and  women.  Offi- 
cial lists,  also  published  in  Russia,  give  18,672  men  and 
women  exiled  to  Siberia  from  Poland,  of  whom  10,407 
were  sent  to  East  Siberia.  I remember  that  the  governor- 
general  of  East  Siberia  mentioned  to  me  the  same  number, 
about  11,000  persons,  sent  to  hard  labor  or  exile  in  his 


180 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


domains.  I saw  them  there,  and  witnessed  their  sufferings. 
Altogether,  something  like  60,000  or  70,000  persons,  if  not 
more,  were  torn  out  of  Poland  and  transported  to  different 
provinces  of  Russia,  to  the  Urals,  to  Caucasus,  and  to 
Siberia. 

For  Russia  the  consequences  were  equally  disastrous. 
The  Polish  insurrection  was  the  definitive  close  of  the  re- 
form period.  True,  the  law  of  provincial  self-government 
(Zemstvos)  and  the  reform  of  the  law  courts  were  promul- 
gated in  1864  and  1866  ; but  both  were  ready  in  1862,  and, 
moreover,  at  the  last  moment  Alexander  II.  gave  preference 
to  the  scheme  of  self-government  which  had  been  prepared 
by  the  reactionary  party  of  Valueff,  as  against  the  scheme 
that  had  been  prepared  by  Nicholas  Miliitin ; and  imme- 
diately after  the  promulgation  of  both  reforms,  their  im- 
portance was  reduced,  and  in  some  cases  destroyed,  by  the 
enactment  of  a number  of  by-laws. 

Worst  of  all,  public  opinion  itself  took  a further  step 
backward.  The  hero  of  the  hour  was  Katkoff,  the  leader 
of  the  serfdom  party,  who  appeared  now  as  a Russian 
“ patriot,”  and  carried  with  him  most  of  the  St.  Petersburg 
and  Moscow  society.  After  that  time,  those  who  dared 
to  speak  of  reforms  were  at  once  classed  by  Katkoff  as 
“ traitors  to  Russia.” 

The  wave  of  reaction  soon  reached  our  remote  province. 
One  day  in  March  a paper  was  brought  by  a special  messen- 
ger from  Irkutsk.  It  intimated  to  General  Kukel  that  he 
was  at  once  to  leave  the  post  of  governor  of  Transbaikalia 
and  go  to  Irkutsk,  waiting  there  for  further  orders,  and  that 
he  was  not  to  reassume  the  post  of  commander  of  the 
general  staff. 

Why  ? What  did  that  mean  ? There  was  not  a word  of 
explanation.  Even  the  governor-general,  a personal  friend 
of  Kukel,  had  not  run  the  risk  of  adding  a single  word  to 


REACTION  IN  SIBERIA 


181 


the  mysterious  order.  Did  it  mean  that  Kukel  was  going 
to  be  taken  between  two  gendarmes  to  St.  Petersburg,  and 
immured  in  that  huge  stone  coffin,  the  fortress  of  St.  Peter 
and  St.  Paul  ? All  was  possible.  Later  on  we  learned 
that  such  was  indeed  the  intention ; and  so  it  would  have 
been  done  but  for  the  energetic  intervention  of  Count 
Nicholas  Muravidff,  “ the  conqueror  of  the  Amur,”  who 
personally  implored  the  Tsar  that  Kukel  should  be  spared 
that  fate. 

Our  parting  with  Kukel  and  his  charming  family  was 
like  a funeral.  My  heart  was  very  heavy.  I not  only  lost 
in  him  a dear  personal  friend,  but  I felt  also  that  this  part- 
ing was  the  burial  of  a whole  epoch,  full  of  long-cherished 
hopes,  — “ full  of  illusions,”  as  it  became  the  fashion  to 
say. 

So  it  was.  A new  governor  came,  — a good-natured, 
“ leave-me-in-peace  ” man.  With  renewed  energy,  seeing 
that  there  was  no  time  to  lose,  I completed  our  plans  for 
the  reform  of  the  system  of  exile  and  municipal  self-gov- 
ernment. The  governor  made  a few  objections  here  and 
there  for  formality’s  sake,  but  finally  signed  the  schemes, 
and  they  were  sent  to  headquarters.  But  at  St.  Petersburg 
reforms  were  no  longer  wanted.  There  our  projects  lie 
buried  still,  with  hundreds  of  similar  ones  from  all  parts  of 
Russia.  A few  “ improved  ” prisons,  even  more  terrible 
than  the  old  unimproved  ones,  have  been  built  in  the  cap- 
itals, to  be  shown  during  prison  congresses  to  distinguished 
foreigners ; but  the  remainder,  and  the  whole  system  of 
exile,  were  found  by  George  Kennan  in  1886  in  exactly  the 
same  state  in  which  I left  them  in  1862.  Only  now,  after 
thirty-five  years  have  passed  away,  the  authorities  are  intro- 
ducing the  reformed  tribunals  and  a parody  of  self-govern- 
ment in  Siberia,  and  committees  have  been  nominated  again 
to  inquire  into  the  system  of  exile. 

When  Kennan  came  back  to  London  from  his  journey  ta 


182 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


Siberia,  he  managed,  on  the  very  next  day  after  his  arrival 
in  London,  to  hunt  up  Stepniak,  Tchaykdvsky,  myself,  and 
another  Russian  refugee.  In  the  evening  we  all  met  at 
Kennan’s  room  in  a small  hotel  near  Charing  Cross.  We  saw 
him  for  the  first  time,  and  having  no  excess  of  confidence  in 
enterprising  Englishmen  who  had  previously  undertaken  to 
learn  all  about  the  Siberian  prisons  without  even  learning  a 
word  of  Russian,  we  began  to  cross-examine  Kennan.  To 
our  astonishment,  he  not  only  spoke  excellent  Russian,  but 
he  knew  everything  worth  knowing  about  Siberia.  One 
or  another  of  us  had  been  acquainted  with  the  greater  pro- 
portion of  all  political  exiles  in  Siberia,  and  we  besieged 
Kennan  with  questions : “ Where  is  So  and  So  ? Is  he 
married  ? Is  he  happy  in  his  marriage  ? Does  he  still 
keep  fresh  in  spirit  ? ” We  were  soon  satisfied  that  Ken- 
nan knew  all  about  every  one  of  them. 

When  this  questioning  was  over,  and  we  were  preparing 
to  leave,  I asked,  “ Do  you  know,  Mr.  Kennan,  if  they  have 
built  a watchtower  for  the  fire  brigade  at  Chita  ? ” Stepniak 
looked  at  me,  as  if  to  reproach  me  for  abusing  Kennan’s 
goodwill.  Kennan,  however,  began  to  laugh,  and  I soon 
joined  him.  And  with  much  laughter  we  tossed  each  other 
questions  and  answers : “ Why,  do  you  know  about  that  ? ” 
“ And  you  too  ? ” “ Built  ? ” “ Yes,  double  estimates  ! ” 

and  so  on,  till  at  last  Stepniak  interfered,  and  in  his  most 
severely  good-natured  way  objected  : “ Tell  us  at  least  what 
you  are  laughing  about.”  "Whereupon  Kennan  told  the 
story  of  that  watchtower  which  his  readers  must  remember. 
In  1859  the  Chita  people  wanted  to  build  a watchtower, 
and  collected  the  money  for  it ; but  their  estimates  had  to 
be  sent  to  St.  Petersburg.  So  they  went  to  the  ministry  of 
the  interior ; but  when  they  came  back,  two  years  later, 
duly  approved,  all  the  prices  for  timber  and  work  had  gone 
up  in  that  rising  young  town.  This  was  in  1862,  while  I 
was  at  Chita.  New  estimates  were  made  and  sent  to  St. 


END  OF  REFORM 


183 


Petersburg,  and  the  story  was  repeated  for  full  twenty-five 
years,  till  at  last  the  Chita  people,  losing  patience,  put  in 
their  estimates  prices  nearly  double  the  real  ones.  These 
fantastic  estimates  were  solemnly  considered  at  St.  Peters- 
burg, and  approved.  This  is  how  Chita  got  its  watchtower. 

It  has  often  been  said  that  Alexander  II.  committed  a 
great  fault,  and  brought  about  his  own  ruin,  by  raising  so 
many  hopes  which  later  on  he  did  not  satisfy.  It  is  seen 
from  what  I have  just  said  — and  the  story  of  little  Chita 
was  the  story  of  all  Russia  — that  he  did  worse  than  that. 
It  was  not  merely  that  he  raised  hopes.  Yielding  for  a 
moment  to  the  current  of  public  opinion  around  him,  he 
induced  men  all  over  Russia  to  set  to  work,  to  issue  from 
the  domain  of  mere  hopes  and  dreams,  and  to  touch  with 
the  finger  the  reforms  that  were  required.  He  made  them 
realize  what  could  be  done  immediately,  and  how  easy  it 
was  to  do  it ; he  induced  them  to  sacrifice  whatever  of  their 
ideals  could  not  be  immediately  realized,  and  to  demand  only 
what  was  practically  possible  at  the  time.  And  when  they 
had  framed  their  ideas,  and  had  shaped  them  into  laws 
which  merely  required  his  signature  to  become  realities, 
then  he  refused  that  signature.  No  reactionist  could  raise, 
or  ever  has  raised,  his  voice  to  assert  that  what  was  left  — 
the  unreformed  tribunals,  the  absence  of  municipal  self- 
government,  or  the  system  of  exile  — was  good  and  was 
worth  maintaining : no  one  has  dared  to  say  that.  And 
yet,  owing  to  the  fear  of  doing  anything,  all  was  left  as  it 
was ; for  thirty-five  years  those  who  ventured  to  mention 
the  necessity  of  a change  were  treated  as  “ suspects ; ” and 
institutions  unanimously  recognized  as  bad  were  permitted 
to  continue  in  existence  only  that  nothing  more  might  be 
heard  of  that  abhorred  word  “ reform.” 


IV 


Seeing  that  there  was  nothing  more  to  be  done  at 
Chitd  in  the  way  of  reforms,  I gladly  accepted  the  offer  to 
visit  the  Amur  that  same  summer  of  1863. 

The  immense  domain  on  the  left  (northern)  hank  of  the 
Amur,  and  along  the  Pacific  coast  as  far  south  as  the  hay 
of  Peter  the  Great  (Vladivostok),  had  been  annexed  to 
Russia  by  Count  Muravioff,  almost  against  the  will  of  the 
St.  Petersburg  authorities  and  certainly  without  much  help 
from  them.  When  he  conceived  the  bold  plan  of  taking 
possession  of  the  great  river  whose  southern  position  and 
fertile  lands  had  for  the  last  two  hundred  years  always 
attracted  the  Siberians ; and  when,  on  the  eve  of  the  open- 
ing of  Japan  to  Europe,  he  decided  to  take  for  Russia  a 
strong  position  on  the  Pacific  coast,  and  to  join  hands  with 
the  United  States,  he  had  almost  everybody  against  him  at 
St.  Petersburg : the  ministry  of  war,  which  had  no  men 
to  dispose  of ; the  ministry  of  finance,  which  had  no  money 
for  annexations ; and  especially  the  ministry  of  foreign 
affairs,  always  guided  by  its  preoccupation  of  avoiding 
“ diplomatic  complications.”  Muravioff  had  thus  to  act 
on  his  own  responsibility,  and  to  rely  upon  the  scanty 
means  which  thinly  populated  Eastern  Siberia  could  afford 
for  this  grand  enterprise.  Moreover,  everything  had  to  be 
done  in  a hurry,  in  order  to  oppose  the  “ accomplished 
fact  ” to  the  protests  of  the  West  European  diplomatists, 
which  would  certainly  be  raised. 

A nominal  occupation  would  have  been  of  no  avail,  and 
the  idea  was  to  have  on  the  whole  length  of  the  great 
river  and  of  its  southern  tributary,  the  Usuri,  — full  2500 


OCCUPATION  OF  THE  AMUR  REGION 


•185 


miles,  — a chain  of  self-supporting  settlements,  and  thus 
to  establish  a regular  communication  between  Siberia  and 
the  Pacific  coast.  Men  were  wanted  for  these  settlements, 
and  as  the  scanty  population  of  East  Siberia  could  not 
supply  them,  Muravioff  was  forced  to  unusual  measures. 
Released  convicts  who,  after  having  served  their  time,  had 
become  serfs  to  the  imperial  mines,  were  freed  and  organ- 
ized as  Transbaikalian  Cossacks,  part  of  whom  were  settled 
along  the  Amur  and  the  Usurf,  forming  two  new  Cossack 
communities.  Then  Muravioff  obtained  the  release  of 
a thousand  hard-labor  convicts  (mostly  robbers  and  mur- 
derers), who  were  to  be  settled  as  free  men  on  the  lower 
Amur.  He  came  himself  to  see  them  off,  and  as  they  were 
going  to  leave,  addressed  them  on  the  beach : “ Go,  my 
children,  be  free  there,  cultivate  the  land,  make  it  Russian 
soil,  start  a new  life,”  and  so  on.  The  Russian  peasant 
women  nearly  always,  of  their  own  free  will,  follow  their 
husbands,  if  the  latter  happen  to  be  sent  to  hard  labor  in 
Siberia,  and  many  of  the  would-be  colonists  had  thus  their 
families  with  them.  But  those  who  had  none  ventured 
to  remark  to  Muravioff:  “What  is  agriculture  without  a 
wife  ! We  ought  to  be  married.”  Whereupon  Muravioff 
ordered  the  release  of  all  the  hard-labor  convict  women  of  the 
place  — about  a hundred  — and  offered  them  their  choice 
of  the  men.  But  there  was  little  time  to  lose ; the 
high  water  in  the  river  was  rapidly  going  down,  the  rafts 
had  to  start,  and  Muravidff,  asking  the  people  to  stand  in 
pairs  on  the  beach,  blessed  them,  saying : “ I marry  you, 
children.  Be  kind  to  each  other ; you  men,  don’t  ill-treat 
your  wives,  — and  be  happy.” 

I saw  these  settlers  some  six  years  after  that  scene. 
Their  villages  were  poor,  the  land  they  had  been  settled 
on  having  had  to  be  cleared  from  under  virgin  forests  ; 
but,  all  things  considered,  their  settlements  were  not  a 
failure;  and  the  Muravioff  marriages  were  not  less  happy 


186 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


than  marriages  are  on  the  average.  That  excellent,  intelligent 
man,  Innocentus,  bishop  of  the  Amur,  afterward  recognized 
these  marriages,  as  well  as  the  children  that  were  bom,  as 
quite  legal,  and  had  them  inscribed  on  the  church  registers. 

Muravidff  was  less  successful,  however,  with  another 
batch  of  men  that  he  added  to  the  population  of  East 
Siberia.  In  his  penury  of  men,  he  had  accepted  a couple 
of  thousand  soldiers  from  the  punishment  battalions.  They 
were  incorporated  as  “ adopted  sons  ” in  the  families  of  the 
Cossacks,  or  were  settled  in  joint  households  in  the  villages 
of  the  Siberians.  But  ten  or  twenty  years  of  barrack  life 
under  the  horrid  discipline  of  Nicholas  I.’s  time  surely  were 
not  a preparation  for  an  agricultural  life.  The  “ sons  ” 
deserted  their  adopted  fathers,  and  constituted  the  floating 
population  of  the  towns,  living  from  hand  to  mouth  on 
occasional  jobs,  spending  chiefly  in  drink  what  they  earned, 
and  then  waiting  as  care-free  as  birds  for  new  jobs  to 
turn  up. 

The  motley  crowd  of  Transbaikalian  Cossacks,  of  ex- 
convicts, and  “ sons  ” — all  settled  in  a hurry,  and  often  in 
a haphazard  way,  along  the  banks  of  the  Amur  — certainly 
did  not  attain  prosperity,  especially  in  the  lower  parts  of 
the  river  and  on  the  Usuri,  where  almost  every  square 
yard  of  land  had  to  be  won  from  a virgin  sub-tropical 
forest,  and  where  deluges  of  rain  brought  by  the  monsoons 
in  July,  inundations  on  a gigantic  scale,  millions  of  migrat- 
ing birds,  and  the  like,  continually  destroyed  the  crops, 
finally  reducing  whole  populations  to  sheer  despair  and 
apathy. 

Considerable  supplies  of  salt,  flour,  cured  meat,  and  so 
on  had  therefore  to  be  shipped  every  year,  to  support  both 
the  regular  troops  and  the  settlements  on  the  lower  Amur, 
and  for  that  purpose  some  hundred  and  fifty  barges  were 
yearly  built  at  Chita  and  floated  with  the  early  spring 
high  water  down  the  Ingodd,  the  Shflka,  and  the  Amvir. 


FIRST  EXPERIENCES  AS  A NAVIGATOR  187 

The  whole  flotilla  was  divided  into  detachments  of  from 
twenty  to  thirty  barges,  which  were  placed  under  the  orders 
of  a number  of  Cossack  and  civil-service  officers.  Most  of 
these  did  not  know  much  about  navigation,  but  they  could 
be  trusted,  at  least,  not  to  steal  the  provisions  and  then 
report  them  as  lost.  I was  nominated  assistant  to  the 
chief  of  all  that  flotilla,  — let  me  name  him,  — Major 
Mardvsky. 

My  first  experiences  in  my  new  capacity  of  navigator 
were  not  entirely  successful.  It  so  happened  that  I had 
to  proceed  with  a few  barges  as  rapidly  as  possible  to  a 
certain  point  on  the  Amur,  and  there  to  hand  over  my 
vessels.  For  that  purpose  I had  to  hire  men  from  among 
those  very  “ sons  ” whom  I have  already  mentioned.  None 
of  them  had  ever  had  any  experience  in  river  navigation ; 
nor  had  I.  On  the  morning  of  our  start  my  crew  had  to 
be  collected  from  the  public  houses  of  the  place,  most  of 
them  being  so  drunk  at  that  early  hour  that  they  had  to 
be  bathed  in  the  river  to  bring  them  back  to  their  senses. 
When  we  were  afloat,  I had  to  teach  them  everything  that 
was  to  be  done.  Still,  things  went  pretty  well  during  the 
day  ; the  barges,  carried  along  by  a swift  current,  floated 
down  the  river,  and  my  crew,  inexperienced  though  they 
were,  had  no  interest  in  throwing  their  vessels  upon  the 
shore : that  would  have  required  special  exertion.  But 
when  dusk  came,  and  it  was  time  to  bring  our  huge,  heavily 
laden  barges  to  the  shore  and  fasten  them  for  the  night, 
one  of  them,  which  was  far  ahead  of  the  one  that  carried 
me,  was  stopped  only  when  it  was  fast  upon  a rock,  at  the 
foot  of  a tremendously  high,  insurmountable  cliff.  There 
it  stood  immovable,  while  the  level  of  the  river,  temporarily 
swollen  by  rains,  was  rapidly  going  down.  My  ten  men 
evidently  could  not  move  it.  I rowed  down  to  the  next 
village  to  ask  assistance  from  the  Cossacks,  and  at  the  same 
time  dispatched  a messenger  to  a friend,  a Cossack  officer 


188 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


who  was  staying  some  twenty  miles  away,  and  who  had  had 
experience  in  such  things. 

The  morning  came  ; a hundred  Cossacks  — men  and 
women  — had  come  to  my  aid,  but  there  was  no  means 
whatever  of  connecting  the  barge  with  the  shore,  in  order 
to  unload  it,  so  deep  was  the  water  under  the  cliff. 
And,  as  soon  as  we  attempted  to  push  it  off  the  rock,  its 
bottom  was  broken  in,  and  the  water  freely  entered, 
sweeping  away  the  flour  and  salt  which  formed  the  cargo. 
To  my  great  horror  I perceived  numbers  of  small  fish  enter- 
ing through  the  hole  and  swimming  about  in  the  barge, 
and  I stood  there  helpless,  without  knowing  what  to  do 
next.  There  is  a very  simple  and  effective  remedy  for 
such  emergencies.  A sack  of  flour  is  forced  into  the  hole, 
to  the  shape  of  which  it  soon  adapts  itself,  while  the  outer 
crust  of  paste  which  is  formed  in  the  sack  prevents  water 
from  penetrating  through  the  flour ; but  none  of  us  knew 
this  at  the  time. 

Happily  for  me,  a few  minutes  later  a barge  was  sighted 
coming  down  the  river  towards  us.  The  appearance  of  the 
swan  which  carried  Lohengrin  was  not  greeted  with  more 
enthusiasm  by  the  despairing  Elsa  than  that  clumsy  vessel 
was  greeted  by  me.  The  haze  which  covered  the  beautiful 
Shilka  at  that  early  hour  in  the  morning  added  even  more 
to  the  poetry  of  the  vision.  It  was  my  friend,  the  Cossack 
officer,  who  had  realized  by  my  description  that  no  human 
force  could  drag  my  barge  off  the  rock,  — that  it  was  lost, 
— and  was  bringing  an  empty  barge  which  by  chance  was 
at  hand,  to  take  away  the  cargo  of  my  doomed  craft. 

Now  the  hole  was  stopped,  the  water  was  pumped  out, 
the  cargo  was  transferred  to  the  new  barge,  and  next  morn- 
ing I could  continue  my  journey.  This  little  experience 
was  of  great  profit  to  me,  and  I soon  reached  my  destina- 
tion on  the  Amiir  without  further  adventures  worth  men- 
tioning. Every  night  we  found  some  stretch  of  steep  but 


ON  THE  AMUR  RIVER 


189 


relatively  low  shore  where  to  stop  with  the  barges,  and  our 
fires  were  soon  lighted  on  the  bank  of  the  swift  and  clear 
river,  amidst  the  most  beautiful  mountain  scenery.  In  day- 
time, one  could  hardly  imagine  a more  pleasant  journey  than 
on  board  a barge,  which  floats  leisurely  down,  without  any  of 
the  noise  of  the  steamer ; one  or  two  strokes  being  occasion- 
ally given  with  its  immense  stern  sweep  to  keep  it  in  the  main 
current.  For  the  lover  of  nature,  the  lower  part  of  the 
Shilka  and  the  upper  part  of  the  Amur,  where  one  sees  a 
most  beautiful,  wide,  and  swift  river  flowing  amidst  moun- 
tains rising  in  steep,  wooded  cliffs  a couple  of  thousand 
feet  above  the  water,  offer  some  of  the  most  delightful  scenes 
in  the  world.  But  these  same  cliffs  make  communication 
along  the  shore  on  horseback,  by  way  of  a narrow  trail,  ex- 
tremely difficult.  I learned  this  that  very  autumn  at  my 
own  expense.  In  East  Siberia  the  seven  last  stations  along 
the  Shilka  (about  120  miles)  were  known  as  the  Seven 
Mortal  Sins.  This  stretch  of  the  Trans-Siberian  railway 
— if  it  is  ever  built  — will  cost  unimaginable  sums  of  money  ; 
much  more  than  the  stretch  of  the  Canadian  Pacific  line  in 
the  Rocky  Mountains,  in  the  canon  of  the  Fraser  River,  has 
cost. 

After  I had  delivered  my  barges,  I made  about  a thou- 
sand miles  down  the  Amur  in  one  of  the  post  boats  which 
are  used  on  the  river.  The  stern  of  the  boat  was  covered 
in,  and  in  the  bow  was  a box  filled  with  earth  upon  which 
a fire  was  kept  to  cook  the  food.  My  crew  consisted  of 
three  men.  We  had  to  make  haste,  and  therefore  used  to 
row  in  turns  all  day  long,  while  at  night  the  boat  was  left 
to  float  with  the  current,  and  I kept  the  watch  for  three  or 
four  hours  to  maintain  the  boat  in  the  middle  of  the  river, 
and  to  prevent  it  from  being  drawn  into  some  side  channel. 
These  watches  — the  full  moon  shining  above  and  the 
dark  hills  reflected  in  the  river  — were  beautiful  beyond 


190 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


description.  My  rowers  were  taken  from  the  aforemen- 
tioned “ sons;”  they  were  three  tramps,  who  had  the  reputa- 
tion of  being  incorrigible  thieves  and  robbers,  — and  I car- 
ried with  me  a heavy  sack  full  of  banknotes,  silver,  and 
copper.  In  Western  Europe  such  a journey,  on  a lonely 
river,  would  have  been  considered  risky  ; not  so  in  East 
Siberia.  I made  it  without  even  having  so  much  as  an  old 
pistol,  and  I found  my  three  tramps  excellent  company. 
Only,  as  we  approached  Blagoveschensk,  they  became  rest- 
less. “ Khanshina  ” (the  Chinese  brandy)  “ is  cheap  there,” 
they  reasoned,  with  deep  sighs.  “ We  are  sure  to  get  into 
trouble ! It ’s  cheap,  and  it  knocks  you  over  in  no  time, 
from  want  of  being  used  to  it ! ” I offered  to  leave  the 
money  which  was  due  to  them  with  a friend  who  would 
see  them  off  with  the  first  steamer.  “ That  would  not 
help  us,”  they  replied  mournfully.  “ Somebody  will  offer 
a glass,  — it ’s  cheap,  — and  a glass  knocks  you  over  ! ” 
they  persisted  in  saying.  They  were  really  perplexed,  and 
when,  a few  months  later,  I returned  through  the  town, 
I learned  that  one  of  “ my  sons,”  as  people  called  them 
in  town,  had  really  got  into  trouble.  When  he  had  sold 
the  last  pair  of  boots  to  get  the  poisonous  drink,  he  had 
committed  some  theft  and  had  been  locked  up.  My  friend 
finally  obtained  his  release  and  shipped  him  back. 

Only  those  who  have  seen  the  Amur,  or  know  the  Missis- 
sippi or  the  Yang-tze-kiang,  can  imagine  what  an  immense 
river  the  Amur  becomes  after  it  has  joined  the  Sungari,  and 
can  realize  what  tremendous  waves  roll  over  its  bed  if  the 
weather  is  stormy.  When  the  rainy  season,  due  to  the  mon- 
soons, comes  in  July,  the  Sungari,  the  Usurf,  and  the  Amur 
are  swollen  by  unimaginable  quantities  of  water ; thousands 
of  low  islands  usually  covered  with  willow  thickets  are 
inundated  or  washed  away,  and  the  width  of  the  river  at- 
tains in  places  two,  three,  and  even  five  miles ; water  rushes 


A TYPHOON 


191 


into  the  side  channels  and  the  lakes  which  spread  in  the 
low  lands  along  the  main  channel ; and  when  a fresh 
wind  blows  from  an  easterly  quarter,  against  the  current, 
tremendous  waves,  even  higher  than  those  which  one  sees 
in  the  estuary  of  the  St.  Lawrence,  roll  up  both  the  main 
river  and  the  side  channels.  Still  worse  is  it  when  a 
typhoon  blows  from  the  Chinese  Sea  and  spreads  over  the 
Amur  region. 

We  experienced  such  a typhoon.  I was  then  on  board 
a large  decked  boat,  with  Major  Mardvsky,  whom  I joined 
at  Blagoveschensk.  He  had  rigged  his  boat  so  that  she 
would  sail  close  to  the  wind,  and  when  the  storm  began  we 
managed  to  bring  our  boat  to  the  sheltered  side  of  the 
river,  and  to  find  refuge  in  a small  tributary.  There  we 
stayed  for  two  days,  while  the  storm  raged  with  such  fury 
that,  when  I ventured  for  a few  hundred  yards  into  the 
surrounding  forest,  I had  to  retreat  on  account  of  the  num- 
ber of  immense  trees  which  the  wind  was  blowing  down 
around  me.  We  began  to  feel  very  uneasy  for  our  barges. 
It  was  evident  that  if  they  had  been  afloat  that  morning, 
they  never  would  have  been  able  to  reach  the  sheltered 
side  of  the  river,  but  must  have  been  driven  by  the  storm 
to  the  bank  exposed  to  the  full  rage  of  the  wind,  and  there 
destroyed.  A disaster  was  almost  certain. 

We  sailed  out  as  soon  as  the  fury  of  the  storm  had 
abated.  We  knew  that  we  ought  soon  to  overtake  two  de- 
tachments of  barges  ; but  we  sailed  one  day,  two  days,  and 
found  no  trace  of  them.  My  friend  Marovsky  lost  both 
sleep  and  appetite,  and  looked  as  if  he  had  just  had  a seri- 
ous illness.  He  sat  whole  days  on  the  deck,  motionless, 
murmuring : “ All  is  lost,  all  is  lost.”  The  villages  are 
few  and  far  between  on  this  part  of  the  Amur,  and  nobody 
could  give  us  any  information.  A new  storm  came  on,  and 
finally,  reaching  a village  at  daybreak,  M'e  learned  that  no 
barges  had  passed,  but  that  quantities  of  wreckage  had  been 


192 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


seen  floating  down  the  river  during  the  previous  day.  It 
was  evident  that  at  least  forty  barges,  which  carried  a cargo 
of  about  two  thousand  tons,  must  have  been  lost.  It  meant 
a certain  famine  next  spring  on  the  lower  Amur  if  no  sup- 
plies were  brought  in  time,  for  it  was  late  in  the  season, 
navigation  would  soon  come  to  a close,  and  there  was  then 
no  telegraph  along  the  river. 

We  held  a council,  and  decided  that  Mardvsky  should  sail 
as  quickly  as  possible  to  the  mouth  of  the  Amur.  Some 
purchases  of  grain  might  perhaps  he  made  in  Japan  before 
the  close  of  navigation.  Meanwhile  I was  to  go  with  all 
possible  speed  up  the  river,  to  determine  the  losses,  and  do 
my  best  to  cover  the  two  thousand  miles  up  the  Amur  and 
the  Shilka,  — in  boats,  on  horseback,  or  on  board  steamer  if 
I met  one.  The  sooner  I could  warn  the  ChitA  authorities, 
and  dispatch  any  amount  of  provisions  available,  the  better 
it  would  be.  Perhaps  part  of  them  would  this  same 
autumn  reach  the  upper  Amur,  whence  it  would  be  easier 
to  ship  them  in  the  early  spring  to  the  low  lands.  If  only 
a few  weeks  or  even  days  could  be  saved,  it  might  make  an 
immense  difference  in  case  of  a famine. 

I began  my  two  thousand  miles’  journey  in  a row-boat, 
changing  rowers  at  each  village,  every  twenty  miles  or  so. 
It  was  very  slow  progress,  but  there  might  be  no  steamer 
coming  up  the  river  for  a fortnight,  and  in  the  meantime  I 
could  reach  the  places  where  the  barges  were  wrecked,  and 
see  if  any  of  the  provisions  had  been  saved.  Then,  at  the 
mouth  of  the  Usurf  (Khabarovsk)  I might  secure  a steamer. 
The  boats  which  I found  at  the  villages  were  miserable,  and 
the  weather  was  very  stormy.  We  kept  along  the  shore,  of 
course,  but  we  had  to  cross  some  branches  of  the  Amur,  of 
considerable  width,  and  the  waves  driven  by  the  high  wind 
continually  threatened  to  swamp  our  little  craft.  One  day 
we  had  to  cross  a branch  of  the  river  nearly  half  a mile 
wide.  Choppy  waves  rose  like  mountains  as  they  rolled  up 


UP  THE  AMUR  IN  A ROW-BOAT 


193 


that  branch.  My  rowers,  two  peasants,  were  seized  with 
terror ; their  faces  were  white  as  paper ; their  blue  lips 
trembled ; they  murmured  prayers.  But  a boy  of  fifteen, 
who  held  the  rudder,  calmly  kept  a watchful  eye  upon  the 
waves.  He  glided  between  them  as  they  seemed  to  sink 
around  us  for  a moment,  but  when  he  saw  them  rising  to  a 
menacing  height  in  front  of  us,  he  gave  a slight  turn  to  the 
boat  and  steadied  it  across  the  waves.  The  boat  shipped 
water  from  each  wave,  and  I bailed  it  out  with  an  old  ladle, 
noting  at  times  that  it  accumulated  more  rapidly  than  I 
could  throw  it  out.  There  was  a moment,  when  the  boat 
shipped  two  such  big  waves,  that  at  a sign  from  one  of 
the  trembling  rowers  I unfastened  the  heavy  sack,  full  of 
copper  and  silver,  that  I carried  across  my  shoulder.  . . . 
For  several  days  in  succession  we  had  such  crossings.  I 
never  forced  the  men  to  cross,  but  they  themselves,  know- 
ing why  I had  to  hurry,  would  decide  at  a given  moment 
that  an  attempt  must  be  made.  “ There  are  not  seven 
deaths  in  one’s  life,  and  one  cannot  be  avoided,”  they  would 
say,  and,  signing  themselves  with  the  cross,  they  would  seize 
the  oars  and  pull  over. 

I soon  reached  the  place  where  the  main  destruction  of 
our  barges  had  taken  place.  Forty-four  of  them  had  been 
wrecked  by  the  storm.  Unloading  had  been  impossible, 
and  very  little  of  the  cargo  had  been  saved.  Two  thousand 
tons  of  flour  had  been  destroyed.  With  this  news  I con- 
tinued my  journey. 

A few  days  later,  a steamer  slowly  creeping  up  the  river 
overtook  me,  and  when  I boarded  her,  the  passengers  told 
me  that  the  captain  had  drunk  himself  into  a delirium  and 
jumped  overboard.  He  was  saved,  however,  and  was  now 
lying  ill  in  his  cabin.  They  asked  me  to  take  command  of 
the  steamer,  and  I had  to  consent ; but  soon  I found  to  my 
great  astonishment  that  everything  went  on  by  itself  in  such 
an  excellent  routine  way  that,  though  I paraded  all  day  on 


194 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


the  bridge,  I had  almost  nothing  to  do.  Apart  from  a few 
minutes  of  real  responsibility,  when  the  steamer  had  to  be 
brought  to  the  landing-places,  where  we  took  wood  for  fuel, 
and  saying  a word  or  two  now  and  then  to  encourage  the 
stokers  to  start  as  soon  as  the  dawn  permitted  us  faintly 
to  distinguish  the  outlines  of  the  shores,  matters  took  care 
of  themselves.  A pilot  who  would  have  been  able  to  inter- 
pret the  map  would  have  managed  as  well. 

Traveling  by  steamer  and  a great  deal  on  horseback,  I 
reached  at  last  Transbaikalia.  The  idea  of  a famine  that 
might  break  out  next  spring  on  the  lower  Amur  oppressed 
me  all  the  time.  I found  that  on  the  Shflka  the  small 
steamer  did  not  progress  up  the  swift  river  rapidly  enough ; 
so  I abandoned  it  and  rode  with  a Cossack  a couple  of  hun- 
dred miles  up  the  Argun,  along  one  of  the  wildest  moun- 
tain tracks  in  Siberia,  never  stopping  to  light  our  camp-fire 
until  midnight  had  overtaken  us  in  the  woods.  Even  the 
ten  or  twenty  hours  that  I might  gain  by  this  exertion  were 
not  to  be  despised,  for  every  day  brought  nearer  the  close 
of  navigation ; ice  was  already  forming  on  the  river  at 
night.  At  last  I met  the  Governor  of  Transbaikalia  and 
my  friend  Colonel  Pedashenko  on  the  Shflka,  at  the  convict 
settlement  of  Kara,  and  the  latter  took  in  hand  the  care  of 
shipping  immediately  all  available  provisions.  As  for  me, 
I left  immediately  to  report  all  about  the  matter  at  Irkutsk. 

People  at  Irkutsk  wondered  that  I had  managed  to  make 
this  long  journey  so  rapidly ; but  I was  quite  worn  out. 
However,  I recuperated  by  sleeping,  for  a week’s  time,  such 
a number  of  hours  every  day  that  I should  be  ashamed  to 
mention  it  now. 

“ Have  you  taken  enough  rest  ? ” the  governor-general 
asked  me,  a week  or  so  after  my  arrival.  “ Could  you 
start  to-morrow  for  St.  Petersburg,  as  a courier,  to  report 
there  yourself  upon  the  loss  of  the  barges  ? ” 

It  meant  to  cover  in  twenty  days  — not  one  day  more  — 


ANOTHER  HARD  JOURNEY 


195 


another  distance  of  3200  miles  between  Irkutsk  and  Ni'jni 
Novgorod,  where  I could  take  the  railway  to  St.  Petersburg : 
to  gallop  day  and  night  in  post  carts,  which  had  to  be 
changed  at  every  station,  because  no  carriage  would  stand 
such  a journey  full  speed  over  the  frozen  roads.  But  to  see 
my  brother  Alexander  was  too  great  an  attraction  for  me 
not  to  accept  the  offer,  and  I started  the  next  night.  When 
I reached  the  low  lands  of  West  Siberia  and  the  Urals,  the 
journey  really  became  a torture.  There  were  days  when 
the  wheels  of  the  carts  would  be  broken  in  the  frozen  ruts 
at  every  successive  station.  The  rivers  were  freezing,  and 
I had  to  cross  the  Ob  in  a boat  amidst  floating  ice,  which 
threatened  at  every  moment  to  crush  our  small  craft.  When 
I reached  the  Tom  River,  on  which  the  floating  ice  had  just 
frozen  together  during  the  preceding  night,  the  peasants 
refused  for  some  time  to  take  me  over,  asking  me  to  give 
them  “a  receipt.” 

“ What  sort  of  receipt  do  you  want  ? ” 

“ Well,  you  write  on  a paper : ‘ I,  the  undersigned, 
hereby  testify  that  I was  drowned  by  the  will  of  God,  and 
through  no  fault  of  the  peasants,’  and  you  give  us  that 
paper.” 

“ With  pleasure  — on  the  other  shore.” 

At  last  they  took  me  over.  A boy  — a brave,  bright 
boy  whom  I had  selected  in  the  crowd  — headed  the  pro- 
cession, testing  the  strength  of  the  ice  with  a pole ; I 
followed  him,  carrying  my  dispatch  box  on  my  shoulders, 
and  we  two  were  attached  to  long  lines,  which  five  peasants 
held,  following  us  at  a distance,  — one  of  them  carrying  s 
bundle  of  straw,  to  be  thrown  on  the  ice  where  it  did  not 
seem  strong  enough. 

Finally  I reached  Moscow,  where  my  brother  met  me  at 
the  station,  and  thence  we  proceeded  at  once  to  St.  Peters- 
burg. 

Youth  is  a grand  thing.  After  such  a journey,  which 


196 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


lasted  twenty-four  days  and  nights,  arriving  early  in  th® 
morning  at  St.  Petersburg,  I went  the  same  day  to  deliver 
my  dispatches,  and  did  not  fail  also  to  call  upon  an  aunt, 
or  rather  upon  a cousin  of  mine.  She  was  radiant.  “ We 
have  a dancing  party  to-night.  Will  you  come  ? ” she  said. 
Of  course  I would ! And  not  only  come,  but  dance  until 
an  early  hour  of  the  morning. 

When  I reached  St.  Petersburg  and  saw  the  authorities, 
I understood  why  I had  been  sent  to  make  the  report. 
Nobody  would  believe  the  possibility  of  such  a destruction 
of  the  barges.  “ Have  you  been  on  tbe  spot  ? ” “ Did  you 
see  the  destruction  with  your  own  eyes  ? ” “ Are  you  per- 

fectly sure  that  ‘ they  ’ have  not  simply  stolen  the  pro- 
visions, and  shown  you  the  wreck  of  some  barges  ? ” Such 
were  the  questions  I had  to  answer. 

The  high  functionaries  who  stood  at  the  head  of  Siberian 
affairs  at  St.  Petersburg  were  simply  charming  in  their 
innocent  ignorance  of  Siberia.  “ Mais , mon  cher,”  one  of 
them  said  to  me,  — he  always  spoke  French,  — “ how  is  it 
possible  that  forty  barges  should  be  destroyed  on  the  Neva 
without  any  one  rushing  to  save  them  ? ” “ The  Nevd  ! ” 

I exclaimed,  “ put  three  — four  Nevds  side  by  side  and  you 
will  have  the  lower  Amur  ! ” 

“ Is  it  really  as  big  as  that  ? ” And  two  minutes  later 
he  was  chatting,  in  excellent  French,  about  all  sorts  of 
things.  “ When  did  you  last  see  Schwartz,  the  painter  ? 
Is  not  his  ‘ Ivan  the  Terrible  ’ a wonderful'  picture  ? Do 
you  know  why  they  were  going  to  arrest  Kukel  ? ” and  he 
told  me  all  about  a letter  that  had  been  addressed  to  him, 
asking  his  support  for  the  Polish  insurrection.  “ Do  you 
know  that  Chernyshevsky  has  been  arrested  ? He  is  now 
in  the  fortress.” 

“ What  for  ? What  has  he  done  ? ” I asked. 

t(  Nothing  in  particular,  nothing  ! But,  mon  cher,  you 


INCOMPETENT  OFFICIALS 


197 


know,  — State  considerations ! . . . Such  a clever  man, 
awfully  clever ! And  such  an  influence  he  has  upon  the 
youth.  You  understand  that  a government  cannot  tolerate 
that : that ’s  impossible ! intolerable,  mon  cher,  dans  un 
Etat  bien  ordonne  ! ” 

Count  Ignatieff  asked  no  such  questions : he  knew  the 
Amur  very  well,  — and  he  knew  St.  Petersburg,  too. 
Amidst  all  sorts  of  jokes  and  witty  remarks  about  Siberia, 
which  he  made  with  an  astounding  vivacity,  he  said  to  me, 
“ It  is  a very  lucky  thing  that  you  were  there  on  the  spot 
and  saw  the  wrecks.  And  ‘ they  ’ were  clever  to  send  you 
with  the  report.  Well  done  ! At  first  nobody  wanted  to 
believe  about  the  barges.  ‘Some  new  swindling/  it  was 
thought.  But  now  people  say  that  you  were  well  known  as 
a page,  and  you  have  only  been  a few  months  in  Siberia; 
so  you  would  not  shelter  the  people  there,  if  it  were  swin- 
dling ; they  trust  in  you.” 

The  Minister  of  War,  Dmitri  Miliitin,  was  the  only  man 
high  in  the  administration  at  St.  Petersburg  who  took  the 
matter  seriously.  He  asked  me  many  questions  : all  to  the 
point.  He  mastered  the  subject  at  once,  and  all  our  con- 
versation went  on  in  short  sentences,  without  huny,  but 
without  any  waste  of  words.  “The  coast  settlements  to 
be  supplied  from  the  sea,  you  mean  ? The  remainder  only 
from  Chita  ? Quite  right.  But  if  a storm  happens  next 
year,  — will  there  be  the  same  destruction  once  more  ? ” 
“ No,  if  there  are  two  small  tugs  to  convoy  the  barges.” 
“ Will  it  do  ? ” “ Yes  ; with  one  tug  the  loss  would  not 

have  been  half  so  heavy.”  “ Very  probably.  Write  to  me, 
please  ; state  all  you  have  said ; quite  plainly  — no  for- 
malities.” 


V 


I did  not  stay  long  at  St.  Petersburg,  but  returned  to 
Irkutsk  the  same  winter.  My  brother  was  going  to  join 
me  there  in  a few  months : he  was  accepted  as  an  officer  of 
the  Irkutsk  Cossacks. 

Traveling  across  Siberia  in  the  winter  is  supposed  to  be 
a terrible  experience ; but,  all  things  considered,  it  is  on 
the  whole  more  comfortable  than  at  any  other  season  of  the 
year.  The  snow-covered  roads  are  excellent,  and  although 
the  cold  is  intense,  one  can  stand  it  well  enough.  Lying 
full  length  in  the  sledge,  as  every  one  does  in  Siberia, 
wrapped  in  fur  blankets,  fur  inside  and  fur  outside,  one 
does  not  suffer  much  from  the  cold,  even  when  the  tem- 
perature is  forty  or  sixty  degrees  below  zero,  Fahrenheit. 
Traveling  in  courier  fashion,  — that  is,  rapidly  changing 
horses  at  each  station  and  stopping  only  once  a day  for  one 
hour  to  take  a meal,  — I reached  Irkutsk  nineteen  days  after 
leaving  St.  Petersburg.  Two  hundred  miles  a day  is  the 
normal  speed  in  such  cases,  and  I remember  having  covered 
the  last  660  miles  of  my  journey  in  seventy  hours.  The 
frost  was  not  severe  then,  the  roads  were  in  an  excellent 
condition,  the  drivers  were  kept  in  good  spirits  by  a free 
allowance  of  silver  coins,  and  the  team  of  three  small  and 
light  horses  seemed  to  enjoy  running  swiftly  over  hill  and 
vale,  across  rivers  frozen  as  hard  as  steel,  and  through 
forests  glistening  in  their  silver  attire  under  the  rays  of  the 
sun. 

I was  now  appointed  attache  to  the  Governor-General  of 
East  Siberia  for  Cossack  affairs,  and  had  to  reside  at 
Irkdtsk ; but  there  was  nothing  in  particular  to  do.  To  let 


IN  IRKUTSK  AGAIN 


199 


everything  go  on  according  to  the  established  routine, 
with  no  more  reference  to  changes,  — such  was  the  watch- 
word that  came  now  from  St.  Petersburg.  I therefore 
gladly  accepted  the  proposal  to  undertake  geographical 
exploration  in  Manchuria. 

If  one  casts  a glance  on  a map  of  Asia,  one  sees  that 
the  Russian  frontier  which  runs  in  Siberia,  broadly  speak- 
ing, along  the  fiftieth  degree  of  latitude,  suddenly  bends 
in  Transbaikalia  to  the  north.  It  follows  for  three  hun- 
dred miles  the  Argun  River ; then,  on  reaching  the  Amur, 
it  turns  southeastward,  the  town  of  Blagoveschensk,  which 
was  the  capital  of  the  Amur  land,  being  situated  again 
in  about  the  same  latitude  of  fifty  degrees.  Between  the 
southeastern  corner  of  Transbaikalia  (New  Tsurukhditu) 
and  Blagoveschensk  on  the  Amur,  the  distance  west  to  east 
is  only  five  hundred  miles ; but  along  the  Argun  and  the 
Amur  it  is  over  a thousand  miles,  and  moreover  communi- 
<iation  along  the  Argun,  which  is  not  navigable,  is  extremely 
difficult.  In  its  lower  parts  there  is  nothing  but  a moun- 
tain track  of  the  wildest  description. 

Transbaikalia  is  very  rich  in  cattle,  and  the  Cossacks 
who  occupy  its  southeastern  corner  and  are  wealthy  cattle- 
breeders  wanted  to  establish  a direct  communication  with 
the  middle  Amur,  which  would  be  a good  market  for  their 
cattle.  They  used  to  trade  with  the  Mongols,  and  they 
had  heard  from  them  that  it  would  not  be  difficult  to  reach 
the  Amur,  traveling  eastward  across  the  Great  Khingan. 
Going  straight  towards  the  east,  they  were  told,  one  would 
fall  in  with  an  old  Chinese  route  which  crosses  the  Khin- 
gan and  leads  to  the  Manchurian  town  of  Merghen  (on 
the  Ndnni  River,  a tributary  to  the  Sungari),  whence  there 
is  an  excellent  road  to  the  middle  Amdr. 

I was  offered  the  leadership  of  a trading  caravan  which 
the  Cossacks  intended  to  organize  in  order  to  find  that 
route,  and  I accepted  it  with  enthusiasm.  No  European 


200 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


bad  ever  visited  that  region  ; and  a Russian  topographer 
who  went  that  way  a few  years  before  was  killed.  Only 
two  Jesuits,  in  the  times  of  the  Emperor  Kan-si,  had  pene- 
trated from  the  south  as  far  as  Merghdn,  and  had  deter- 
mined its  latitude.  All  the  immense  region  to  the  north 
of  it,  five  hundred  miles  wide,  and  seven  hundred  miles 
deep,  was  totally,  absolutely  unknown.  I consulted  all  the 
available  sources  about  this  region.  Nobody,  not  even  the 
Chinese  geographers,  knew  anything  about  it.  Besides, 
the  very  fact  of  connecting  the  middle  Amur  with  Trans- 
baikalia had  its  importance,  and  Tsurukhaitu  is  now  going 
to  be  the  head  of  the  Trans-Manchuria  Railway.  We  were 
thus  the  pioneers  of  that  great  enterprise. 

There  was,  however,  one  difficulty.  The  treaty  with 
China  granted  to  the  Russians  free  trade  with  the  “ Empire 
of  China,  and  Mongolia.”  Manchuria  was  not  mentioned 
in  it,  and  could  as  well  be  excluded  as  included  in  the 
treaty.  The  Chinese  frontier  authorities  interpreted  it  one 
way,  and  the  Russians  the  other  way.  Moreover,  only 
trade  being  mentioned,  an  officer  would  not  be  allowed  to 
enter  Manchuria.  I had  thus  to  go  as  a trader ; so  I 
bought  at  Irkutsk  various  goods  and  went  disguised  as 
a merchant.  The  governor-general  delivered  me  a passport 
‘ To  the  Irkutsk  second  guild  merchant,  Petr  Alexeiev,  and 
his  companions  ; ’ and  he  warned  me  that  if  the  Chinese 
authorities  arrested  me  and  took  me  to  Pekin,  and  thence 
across  the  Gdbi  to  the  Russian  frontier,  — in  a cage,  on 
a camel’s  back,  was  their  way  of  conveying  prisoners  across 
Mongolia,  — I must  not  betray  him  by  naming  myself. 
I accepted,  of  course,  all  the  conditions,  the  temptation  to 
visit  a country  which  no  European  had  ever  seen  being  too 
great  for  an  explorer  to  resist. 

It  would  not  have  been  easy  to  conceal  my  identity 
while  I was  in  Transbaikalia.  The  Cossacks  are  an  ex- 
tremely inquisitive  people,  — real  Mongols,  — and  as  soon 


DISGUISED  AS  A MERCHANT 


201 


as  a stranger  comes  to  their  villages,  while  treating  him 
with  the  greatest  hospitality,  the  master  of  the  house  where 
he  stays  subjects  him  to  a formal  interrogatory. 

“ A tedious  journey,  I suppose,”  he  begins;  “along 
way  from  Chita,  is  it  not  ? And  then,  perhaps,  longer 
still  for  one  who  comes  from  some  place  beyond  Chitd. 
Maybe  from  Irkutsk  ? Trading  there,  I believe.  Many 
tradesmen  come  this  way.  You  are  going  also  to  Ner- 
chinsk, are  you  not  ? Yes,  people  are  often  married  at 
your  age : and  you,  too,  must  have  left  a family,  I sup- 
pose. Many  children  ? Not  all  hoys,  I should  say  ? ” 
And  so  on  for  quite  half  an  hour. 

The  local  commander  of  the  Cossacks,  Captain  Bux- 
hovden,  knew  his  people,  and  consequently  we  had  taken 
our  precautions.  At  Chita  and  at  Irkdtsk  we  often  had 
had  amateur  theatricals,  playing  by  preference  dramas  of 
Ostrdvsky,  in  which  the  scene  of  action  is  nearly  always 
amongst  the  merchant  classes.  I played  several  times  in 
such  dramas,  and  found  so  great  pleasure  in  acting  that 
I even  wrote  on  one  occasion  to  my  brother  an  enthusi- 
astic letter  confessing  to  him  my  passionate  desire  to  aban- 
don my  military  career  and  to  go  on  the  stage.  I played 
mostly  young  merchants,  and  had  acquired  sufficiently  well 
their  ways  of  talking  and  gesticulating  and  tea-drinking 
from  the  saucer,  — I learned  those  ways  in  my  Nikolskoye 
experiences,  — and  now  I had  a good  opportunity  to  act  it 
all  out  in  reality  for  useful  purposes. 

“ Take  your  seat,  Petr  Alexeievich,”  Captain  Buxhovden 
would  say  to  me  when  the  boiling  tea  urn,  throwing  out 
clouds  of  steam,  was  placed  on  the  table. 

“ Thank  you ; we  will  stay  here,”  I would  reply,  sitting 
on  the  edge  of  a chair  at  a distance,  and  beginning  to  drink 
my  tea  in  true  Moscow  merchant  fashion,  Buxhovden 
meanwhile  nearly  exploding  with  laughter,  as  I blew  upon 
my  saucer  with  “ staring  eyes  ” and  bit  off  in  a special  way 


202 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


microscopic  particles  from  a small  lump  of  sugar  ■which 
was  to  serve  for  half  a dozen  cups. 

We  knew  that  the  Cossacks  would  soon  make  out  the 
truth  about  me,  but  the  important  thing  was  to  win  a few 
days,  and  to  cross  the  frontier  while  my  identity  was  still 
undiscovered.  I must  have  played  my  part  pretty  well, 
for  the  Cossacks  treated  me  like  a petty  merchant.  In  one 
village  an  old  woman  beckoned  to  me  as  I passed,  and 
asked,  “ Are  there  more  people  coming  behind  you  on  the 
Toad,  my  dear  ? ” 

“None,  grandmother,  that  we  heard  of.” 

“They  said  a prince,  Rapdtsky,  was  going  to  come.  Is 
he  coming  ? ” 

“ Oh,  I see.  You  are  right,  grandmother.  His  highness 
intended  to  go,  too,  from  Irkutsk.  But  how  can  ‘ they  ’ ? 
Such  a journey  ! Not  suitable  for  them.  So  they  remained 
where  they  were.” 

“ Of  course,  how  can  he  ! ” 

To  be  brief,  we  crossed  the  frontier  unmolested.  We 
were  eleven  Cossacks,  one  Tungus,  and  myself,  all  on  horse- 
back. We  had  with  us  about  forty  horses  for  sale  and  two 
carts,  — one  of  which,  two-wheeled,  belonged  to  me,  and 
contained  the  cloth,  the  velveteen,  the  gold  braid,  and  so 
on,  which  I had  taken  in  my  capacity  of  merchant.  I at- 
tended to  my  cart  and  my  horses  entirely  myself,  while 
we  chose  one  of  the  Cossacks  to  be  the  “ elder  ” of  our 
caravan.  He  had  to  manage  all  the  diplomatic  talk  with 
the  Chinese  authorities.  All  the  Cossacks  spoke  Mongo- 
lian, and  the  Tungus  understood  Manchurian.  The  Cos- 
sacks of  the  caravan  knew  of  course  who  I was,  — one  of 
them  knew  me  at  Irkutsk,  — but  they  never  betrayed  that 
knowledge,  understanding  that  the  success  of  the  expedi- 
tion depended  upon  it.  I wore  a long  blue  cotton  dress, 
like  all  the  others,  and  the  Chinese  paid  no  attention  to  me, 
bo  that,  unnoticed  by  them,  I could  make  the  compass  survey 


CROSSING  THE  KHINGAN  MOUNTAINS 


203 


of  the  route.  On  the  first  day,  when  all  sorts  of  Chinese 
soldiers  hung  about  us,  in  the  hope  of  getting  a glass  of 
whiskey,  I had  often  to  cast  only  a furtive  glance  at  my  com- 
pass, and  to  jot  down  the  hearings  and  the  distances  inside 
of  my  pocket,  without  taking  my  paper  out.  We  had  with 
us  no  arms  whatever.  Only  our  Tungus,  who  was  going  to 
he  married,  had  taken  his  matchlock  gun  and  used  it  to 
hunt  fallow  deer,  bringing  us  meat  for  supper,  and  securing 
furs  with  which  to  pay  for  his  future  wife. 

When  there  was  no  more  whiskey  to  he  obtained  from  us, 
the  Chinese  soldiers  left  us  alone.  So  we  went  straight 
eastward,  finding  our  way  as  best  we  could  across  hill  and 
dale,  and  after  a four  or  five  days’  march  we  actually  fell 
in  with  the  Chinese  track  which  would  take  us  across  the 
Khingan  to  Merghen. 

To  our  astonishment,  we  found  that  the  crossing  of  the 
great  ridge,  which  looked  so  black  and  terrible  on  the  maps, 
was  very  easy.  We  overtook  on  the  road  an  old  Chinese 
functionary,  miserably  wretched,  traveling  in  a two- 
wheeled cart.  For  the  last  two  days  the  road  was  up-hill, 
and  the  country  bore  testimony  to  its  high  altitude.  The 
ground  became  marshy,  and  the  road  muddy ; the  grass  was 
very  poor,  and  the  trees  grew  thin,  undeveloped,  often  crip- 
pled, and  covered  with  lichens.  Mountains  bare  of  forests 
rose  to  right  and  left,  and  we  were  thinking  already  of  the 
difficulties  we  should  experience  in  crossing  the  ridge,  when 
we  saw  the  old  Chinese  functionary  alighting  from  his  cart 
before  an  obo,  — that  is,  a heap  of  stones  and  branches  of 
trees  to  which  bundles  of  horsehair  and  small  rags  had 
been  attached.  He  drew  several  hairs  out  of  the  mane  of 
his  horse,  and  attached  them  to  the  branches.  “ What  is 
that  ? ” we  asked.  “ The  ohd  ; the  waters  before  us  flow 
now  to  the  Amdr.”  “Is  that  all  of  the  Khingan ? ” “It’s 
all!  No  more  mountains  to  cross  until  we  reach  the  Amdr, 
only  hills  I ” 


204 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


Quite  a commotion  spread  in  our  caravan.  “ The  rivers 
flow  to  the  Amur,  the  Amur ! ” shouted  tho  Cossacks  to 
one  another.  All  their  lives  they  had  heard  the  old  Cos- 
sacks talking  about  the  great  river  where  the  vine  grows 
wild,  where  the  prairies  extend  for  hundreds  of  miles  and 
could  give  wealth  to  millions  of  men  ; then,  after  the  Amur 
had  been  annexed  to  Russia,  they  heard  of  the  long  journey 
to  it,  the  difficulties  of  the  first  settlers,  and  the  prosperity 
of  their  relatives  settled  in  the  upper  Amiir ; and  now  we 
had  found  the  short  way  to  them  ! We  had  before  us  a 
steep  slope,  the  road  leading  downwards  in  zigzags  to  a 
small  river  which  pierced  its  way  through  a choppy  sea  of 
mountains,  and  led  to  the  Amur.  No  more  obstacles  lay 
between  us  and  the  great  river.  A traveler  will  imagine 
my  delight  at  this  unexpected  geographical  discovery.  As 
to  the  Cossacks,  they  hastened  to  dismount  and  to  attach 
in  their  turn  bundles  of  hair  taken  from  their  horses  to  the 
branches  thrown  on  the  obo.  The  Siberians  in  general 
have  a sort  of  awe  of  the  gods  of  the  heathens.  They 
do  not  think  much  of  them,  but  these  gods,  they  say,  are 
wicked  creatures,  bent  on  mischief,  and  it  is  never  good  to 
be  on  bad  terms  with  them.  It  is  far  better  to  bribe  them 
with  small  tokens  of  respect. 

“ Look,  here  is  a strange  tree  ; it  must  be  an  oak,”  they 
exclaimed,  as  we  descended  the  steep  slope.  The  oak  does 
not  grow  in  Siberia  at  all,  and  is  not  found  until  the  east- 
ern slope  of  the  high  plateau  has  been  reached.  “ Look, 
nut  trees ! ” they  exclaimed  next.  “ And  what  tree  is 
that  ? ” they  said,  seeing  a lime-tree,  or  some  other  trees 
which  do  not  grow  in  Russia,  and  which  I knew  as  part 
of  the  Manchurian  flora.  The  northerners,  who  for  many 
years  had  dreamed  of  warmer  lands,  and  now  saw  them, 
were  delighted.  Lying  upon  the  ground  covered  with  rich 
grass,  they  caressed  it  with  their  eyes,  — they  would  have 
kissed  it.  Now  they  burned  with  the  desire  to  reach  the 


IN  MANCHUKIA 


205 


Amur  as  soon  as  possible.  And  when,  a fortnight  later, 
we  stopped  at  our  last  camp-fire  within  twenty  miles  of 
the  river,  they  grew  impatient  like  children.  They  began 
to  saddle  their  horses  shortly  after  midnight,  and  made  me 
start  long  before  daybreak  ; and  when  at  last  from  an  emi- 
nence we  caught  a sight  of  the  mighty  stream,  the  eyes 
of  these  unimpressionable  Siberians,  generally  devoid  of 
poetical  feeling,  gleamed  with  a poet’s  ardor  as  they  looked 
upon  the  blue  waters  of  the  majestic  Amur.  It  was  evident 
that,  sooner  or  later,  with  or  without  the  support,  or  even 
against  the  wish,  of  the  Russian  government,  both  banks  of 
this  river,  a desert  now  but  rich  with  possibilities,  as  well 
as  the  immense  unpopulated  stretches  of  North  Manchuria, 
would  be  invaded  by  Russian  settlers,  just  as  the  shores  ot 
the  Mississippi  were  colonized  by  the  Canadian  voyageurs. 

In  the  meantime,  the  old  half-blind  Chinese  functionary 
with  whom  we  had  crossed  the  Khingan,  having  donned 
his  blue  coat  and  official  hat  with  a glass  button  on  its  top, 
declared  to  us  next  morning  that  he  would  not  let  us  go 
further.  Our  “ elder  ” had  received  him  and  his  clerk  in 
our  tent,  and  the  old  man,  repeating  what  the  clerk  whis- 
pered to  him,  raised  all  sorts  of  objections  to  our  further 
progress.  He  wanted  us  to  camp  on  the  spot  while  he 
should  send  our  pass  to  Pekin  to  get  orders,  — which  we 
absolutely  refused  to  do.  Then  he  sought  to  quarrel  with 
our  passport. 

“ What  sort  of  a passport  is  that  ? ” he  said,  looking 
with  disdain  at  our  pass,  which  was  written  in  a few  lines 
on  a plain  sheet  of  foolscap  paper,  in  Russian  and  Mongo- 
lian, and  had  a simple  sealing-wax  seal.  “ You  may  have 
written  it  yourselves  and  sealed  it  with  a copper,”  he  re- 
marked. “ Look  at  my  pass  : this  is  worth  something  ; ” 
and  he  unrolled  before  us  a sheet  of  paper,  two  feet  long, 
covered  with  Chinese  characters. 

I sat  quietly  aside  during  this  conference  packing  some* 


206 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


thing  in  my  box,  when  a sheet  of  the  “ Moscow  Gazette  ” 
fell  under  my  hand.  The  “ Gazette,”  being  the  property 
of  the  Moscow  University,  had  an  eagle  printed  on  its 
title-heading.  “ Show  him  this,”  I said  to  our  elder.  He 
unfolded  the  immense  sheet  and  pointed  out  the  eagle. 
“ That  pass  was  to  show  to  you,”  our  elder  said,  “ but  this 
is  what  we  have  for  ourselves.”  “ Why,  is  it  all  written 
about  you  ? ” the  old  man  asked,  with  terror.  “ All  about 
us,”  our  elder  replied,  without  even  a twinkle  in  his  eyes. 

The  old  man  — a true  functionary  — looked  quite  dum- 
founded  at  seeing  such  a proficiency  of  writing.  He  ex- 
amined every  one  of  us,  nodding  with  his  head.  But  the 
clerk  was  still  whispering  something  to  his  chief,  who 
finally  declared  that  he  would  not  let  us  continue  the 
journey. 

“ Enough  of  talking,”  I said  to  the  elder ; “ give  the 
order  to  saddle  the  horses.”  The  Cossacks  were  of  the 
same  opinion,  and  in  no  time  our  caravan  started,  bidding 
good-by  to  the  old  functionary,  and  promising  him  to  report 
that  short  of  resorting  to  violence — which  he  was  not  able 
to  do  — he  had  done  all  in  his  power  to  prevent  us  from 
entering  Manchuria,  and  that  it  was  our  fault  if  we  went 
nevertheless. 

A few  days  later  we  were  at  Merghen,  where  we  traded  a 
little,  and  soon  reached  the  Chinese  town  Aigun  on  the 
right  bank  of  the  Amur,  and  the  Russian  town  of  Blago- 
veschensk  on  the  left  bank.  We  had  discovered  the  direct 
route  and  many  interesting  things  besides : the  border-ridge 
character  of  the  Great  Khingan,  the  ease  with  which  it  can 
be  crossed,  the  tertiary  volcanoes  of  the  Uyun  Kholdontsi 
region  which  had  so  long  been  a puzzle  in  geographical  lit- 
erature, and  so  on.  I cannot  say  that  I was  a sharp  trades- 
man, for  at  Merghen  I persisted  (in  broken  Chinese)  in 
asking  thirty-five  rubles  for  a watch,  when  the  Chinese 


COST  OP  THE  EXPEDITION 


207 


buyer  had  already  offered  me  forty-five ; but  the  Cossacks 
traded  all  right.  They  sold  all  their  horses  very  well,  and 
when  my  horses,  my  goods,  and  the  like  were  sold  by 
the  Cossacks,  it  appeared  that  the  expedition  had  cost  the 
government  the  modest  sum  ^ twenty-two  rubles, — eleven 
dollars. 


Ail  this  summer  I traveled  on  the  Amfir.  I went  as  far 
as  its  mouth,  or  rather  its  estuary,  — Nikolaevsk,  — to  join 
the  governor-general,  whom  I accompanied  in  a steamer  up 
the  Usurf;  and  after  that,  in  the  autumn,  I made  a still 
more  interesting  journey  up  the  Sungari,  to  the  very  heart 
of  Manchuria,  as  far  as  Ghirfn  (or  Kirin,  according  to  the 
southern  pronunciation). 

Many  rivers  in  Asia  are  made  by  the  junction  of  two 
equally  important  streams,  so  that  it  is  difficult  for  the 
geographer  to  say  which  of  the  two  is  the  main  one,  and 
which  is  a tributary.  The  Ingoda  and  the  Ondn  join  to 
make  the  Shilka ; the  Shflka  and  the  Argun  join  to  make 
the  Amur ; and  the  Amur  joins  the  Sungari  to  form  that 
mighty  stream  which  flows  northeastward  and  enters  the 
Pacific  in  the  inhospitable  latitudes  of  the  Tartar  strait. 

Up  to  the  year  1864,  the  great  river  of  Manchuria  re- 
mained very  little  known.  All  information  about  it  dated 
from  the  times  of  the  Jesuits,  and  that  was  scanty.  Kow 
that  a revival  in  the  exploration  of  Mongolia  and  Man- 
churia was  going  to  take  place,  and  the  fear  of  China  which 
had  hitherto  been  entertained  in  Russia  appeared  to  be 
exaggerated,  all  of  us  younger  people  pressed  upon  the 
governor-general  the  necessity  of  exploring  the  Sungari.  To 
have  next  door  to  the  Amur  an  immense  region,  almost  as 
little  known  as  an  African  desert,  seemed  to  us  provoking. 
Suddenly  General  Korsakoff  decided  to  send  a steamer  up 
the  Sungari,  under  the  pretext  of  carrying  some  message  of 
friendship  to  the  governor-general  of  the  Ghirfn  province. 
A Russian  consul  from  Urga  had  to  carry  the  message.  A 


UP  THE  SUNGARI 


209 


doctor,  an  astronomer,  and  myself,  all  under  the  command 
of  a Colonel  Cherny&eff,  were  sent  upon  the  expedition  in 
a tiny  steamer,  Usurf,  which  took  in  tow  a barge  with  coal. 
Twenty-five  soldiers,  whose  rifles  were  carefully  concealed 
in  the  coal,  went  with  us,  on  the  barge. 

All  was  organized  very  hurriedly,  and  there  was  no  ac- 
commodation on  the  small  steamer  to  receive  such  a numer- 
ous company ; but  we  were  all  full  of  enthusiasm,  and 
huddled  as  best  we  could  in  the  tiny  cabins.  One  of  us 
had  to  sleep  on  a table,  and  when  we  started  we  found  that 
there  were  not  even  knives  and  forks  for  all  of  us,  — not  to 
speak  of  other  necessaries.  One  of  us  resorted  to  his  pen- 
knife at  dinner  time,  and  my  Chinese  knife  with  two  sticks, 
serving  as  a fork,  was  a welcome  addition  to  our  equipment. 

It  was  not  an  easy  task  to  go  up  the  Sungari.  The  great 
river  in  its  lower  parts,  where  it  flows  through  the  same 
low  lands  as  the  Amfir,  is  very  shallow,  and  although  our 
steamer  drew  only  three  feet,  we  often  could  not  find  a 
channel  deep  enough  for  us.  There  were  days  when  we 
advanced  but  some  forty  miles,  and  scraped  as  many  times 
the  sandy  bottom  of  the  river  with  our  keel ; over  and  over 
again  a rowboat  was  sent  out  to  find  the  necessary  depth. 
But  our  young  captain  had  made  up  his  mind  that  he  would 
reach  Ghirin  that  autumn,  and  we  progressed  every  day. 
As  we  ascended  higher  and  higher,  we  found  the  river  more 
and  more  beautiful,  and  more  and  more  easy  of  navigation ; 
and  when  we  had  passed  the  sandy  deserts  at  its  junction 
with  its  sister  river,  the  Ndnni,  progress  became  easy  and 
pleasant.  In  a few  weeks  we  thus  reached  the  capital  of 
that  province  of  Manchuria.  An  excellent  map  of  the 
river  was  made  by  the  topographers.  There  was  no  time 
to  spare,  unfortunately,  and  so  we  very  seldom  landed  in 
any  village  or  town.  The  villages  along  the  banks  of  the 
river  are  few  and  far  between,  and  on  its  lower  parts  we 
found  only  low  lands,  which  are  inundated  every  yearj 


210 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


higher  up  we  sailed  for  a hundred  miles  amidst  sand  dunes ; 
and  it  was  only  when  we  reached  the  upper  Srrngari  and 
began  to  approach  Ghirin,  that  we  found  a dense  population. 

If  our  aim  had  been  to  establish  friendly  relations  with 
Manchuria,  and  not  simply  to  learn  what  the  Sungari  is, 
our  expedition  might  well  have  been  considered  a dead 
failure.  The  Manchurian  authorities  had  it  fresh  in  their 
memories  how,  eight  years  before,  the  “ visit  ” of  Muravioff 
ended  in  the  annexation  of  the  Amur  and  the  Usuri,  and 
they  could  not  but  look  with  suspicion  on  this  new  and 
uncalled-for  visitation.  The  twenty-five  rifles  concealed 
in  the  coal,  which  had  been  duly  reported  to  the  Chinese 
authorities  before  we  left,  still  more  provoked  their  sus- 
picions ; and  when  our  steamer  cast  her  anchor  in  front  of 
the  populous  city  of  Ghirin,  we  found  all  its  merchants 
armed  with  rusty  swords  from  some  old  arsenal.  We  were 
not  prevented,  however,  from  walking  in  the  streets,  but  all 
shops  were  closed  as  soon  as  we  landed,  and  the  merchants 
were  not  allowed  to  sell  anything.  Some  provisions  were 
sent  to  us  on  board  the  steamer  as  a gift,  but  no  money  was 
taken  in  return. 

The  autumn  was  rapidly  coming  to  its  end,  the  frosts  had 
begun  already,  and  we  had  to  hurry  back,  as  we  could  not 
winter  on  the  Sungari.  In  short,  we  saw  Ghirin,  but  spoke 
to  no  one  but  the  two  interpreters  who  came  every  morning 
on  board  our  steamer.  Our  aim,  however,  was  fulfilled : 
we  had  ascertained  that  the  river  is  navigable,  and  an  ex- 
cellent map  of  it  was  made,  from  its  mouth  to  Ghirin,  with 
the  aid  of  which  we  were  able  to  steam  on  our  return  journej 
at  full  speed  without  any  accident.  At  one  time  oui 
steamer  ran  upon  a sandbank.  But  the  Ghirin  officials, 
desirous  above  all  things  that  we  should  not  be  compelled 
to  winter  on  the  river,  sent  two  hundred  Chinese,  who 
aided  us  in  getting  off.  When  I jumped  into  the  water, 
and,  taking  a stick,  began  to  sing  our  river-song,  “ Dubi- 


^ oft (>■//'/' 


FRIENDLY  CHINESE 


211 


nushka,”  which  helps  all  present  to  give  a sudden  push 
at  the  same  moment,  the  Chinese  enjoyed  immensely  the 
fun  of  it,  and  after  several  such  pushes  the  steamer  was 
soon  afloat.  The  most  cordial  relations  were  established 
between  ourselves  and  the  Chinese  by  this  little  adventure. 
I mean,  of  course,  the  people,  who  seemed  to  dislike  very 
much  their  arrogant  Manchurian  officials. 

We  called  at  several  Chinese  villages,  peopled  with  exiles 
from  the  Celestial  Empire,  and  were  received  in  the  most 
cordial  way.  One  evening  especially  impressed  itself  on  my 
memory.  We  came  to  a picturesque  little  village  as  night 
was  already  falling.  Some  of  us  landed,  and  I went  alone 
through  the  village.  A thick  crowd  of  about  a hundred 
Chinese  soon  surrounded  me,  and  although  I knew  not  a 
word  of  their  tongue,  and  they  knew  as  little  of  mine,  we 
chatted  in  the  most  amicable  way  by  mimicry,  and  we  un- 
derstood one  another.  To  pat  one  on  the  shoulders  in  sign 
of  friendship  is  decidedly  international  language.  To  offer 
one  another  tobacco  and  to  be  offered  a light  is  again  an  in- 
ternational expression  of  friendship.  One  thing  interested 
them,  — why  had  I,  though  young,  a heard  ? They  wear 
none  before  they  are  sixty.  And  when  I told  them  by 
signs  that  in  case  I should  have  nothing  to  eat  I might  eat 
it,  the  joke  was  transmitted  from  one  to  the  other  through 
the  whole  crowd.  They  roared  with  laughter,  and  began  to 
pat  me  even  more  caressingly  on  the  shoulders ; they  took 
me  about,  showing  me  their  houses ; every  one  offered  me  his 
pipe,  and  the  whole  crowd  accompanied  me  as  a friend  to 
the  steamer.  I must  say  that  there  was  not  one  single 
boshJco  (policeman)  in  that  village.  In  other  villages  our 
soldiers  and  myself  always  made  friends  with  the  Chinese, 
but  as  soon  as  a boshko  appeared,  all  was  spoiled.  In 
return,  one  should  have  seen  what  “ faces  ” they  used  to 
make  at  the  boshkd  behind  his  back  1 They  evidently 
hated  this  representative  of  authority. 


212 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


This  expedition  has  since  been  forgotten.  The  astrono* 
mer  Th.  Usdltzeff  and  I published  reports  about  it  in  the 
Memoirs  of  the  Siberian  Geographical  Society ; but  a few 
years  later  a terrible  conflagration  at  Irkutsk  destroyed  all 
the  copies  left  of  the  Memoirs,  as  well  as  the  original  map 
of  the  Sungari ; and  it  was  only  last  year,  when  work  upon 
the  Trans-Manchurian  Railway  was  beginning,  that  Russian 
geographers  unearthed  our  reports,  and  found  that  the  great 
river  had  been  explored  five-and-thirty  years  ago  by  our 
expedition. 


VII 


As  there  was  nothing  more  to  be  done  in  the  direction  of 
reform,  I tried  to  do  what  seemed  to  be  possible  under  the 
existing  circumstances,  — only  to  become  convinced  of  the 
absolute  uselessness  of  such  efforts.  In  my  new  capacity  of 
attache  to  the  governor-general  for  Cossack  affairs,  I made, 
for  instance,  a most  thorough  investigation  of  the  econom- 
ical conditions  of  the  Usurf  Cossacks,  whose  crops  used  to 
be  lost  every  year,  so  that  the  government  had  every  winter 
to  feed  them  in  order  to  save  them  from  famine.  When  I 
returned  from  the  Usurf  with  my  report,  I received  con- 
gratulations on  all  sides,  I was  promoted,  I got  special 
rewards.  All  the  measures  I recommended  were  accepted, 
and  special  grants  of  money  were  given  for  aiding  the 
emigration  of  some  and  for  supplying  cattle  to  others,  as  I 
had  suggested.  But  the  practical  realization  of  the  measures 
went  into  the  hands  of  some  old  drunkard,  who  would 
squander  the  money  and  pitilessly  flog  the  unfortunate 
Cossacks  for  the  purpose  of  converting  them  into  good  agri- 
culturalists. And  thus  it  went  on  in  all  directions,  be- 
ginning with  the  Winter  Palace  at  St.  Petersburg,  and 
ending  with  the  Usurf  and  Kamchatka. 

The  higher  administration  of  Siberia  was  influenced  by 
excellent  intentions,  and  I can  only  repeat  that,  everything 
considered,  it  was  far  better,  far  more  enlightened,  and  far 
more  interested  in  the  welfare  of  the  country  than  the  ad- 
ministration of  any  other  province  of  Russia.  But  it  was 
an  administration,  — a branch  of  the  tree  which  had  its  root 
at  St.  Petersburg,  and  that  was  quite  sufficient  to  paralyze 
all  its  excellent  intentions,  and  to  make  it  interfere  with  all 


214 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


beginnings  of  local  spontaneous  life  and  progress.  Whatever 
was  started  for  the  good  of  the  country  by  local  men  was 
looked  at  with  distrust,  and  was  immediately  paralyzed  by 
hosts  of  difficulties  which  came,  not  so  much  from  the  bad 
intentions  of  men,  — men,  as  a rule,  are  better  than  institu- 
tions, — but  simply  because  they  belonged  to  a pyramidal, 
centralized  administration.  The  very  fact  of  its  being  a 
government  which  had  its  source  in  a distant  capital  caused 
it  to  look  upon  everything  from  the  point  of  view  of  a 
functionary  of  the  government  who  thinks,  first  of  all,  about 
what  his  superiors  will  say,  and  how  this  or  that  will  appear 
in  the  administrative  machinery,  and  not  of  the  interests 
of  the  country. 

Gradually  I turned  my  energy  more  and  more  toward 
scientific  exploration.  In  1865  I explored  the  western 
Sayans,  where  I got  a new  glimpse  into  the  structure  of 
the  Siberian  highlands,  and  came  upon  another  important 
volcanic  region  on  the  Chinese  frontier ; and  finally,  next 
year,  I undertook  a long  journey  to  discover  a direct  com- 
munication between  the  gold  mines  of  the  Yakutsk  province 
(on  the  Vitim  and  the  Oldkma)  and  Transbaikalia.  For 
several  years  (1860-64)  the  members  of  the  Siberian  expe- 
dition had  tried  to  find  such  a passage,  and  had  endeavored 
to  cross  the  series  of  very  wild  stony  parallel  ridges  which 
separate  these  mines  from  Transbaikalia ; but  when  they 
reached  that  region,  coming  from  the  south,  and  saw  before 
them  these  dreary  mountains  spreading  for  hundreds  of 
miles  northward,  all  of  them,  save  one  who  was  killed  by 
natives,  returned  southward.  It  was  evident  that,  in  order 
to  be  successful,  the  expedition  must  move  from  the  north 
to  the  south,  — from  the  dreary  and  unknown  wilderness  to 
the  warmer  and  populated  regions.  It  also  happened  that 
while  I was  preparing  for  the  expedition,  I was  shown  a 
map  which  a native  had  traced  with  his  knife  on  a piece  of 
bark.  This  little  map  — a splendid  example,  by  the  way, 


SCIENTIFIC  EXPLORATION 


215 


of  the  usefulness  of  the  geometrical  sense  in  the  lowest 
stages  of  civilization,  and  one  which  would  consequently 
interest  A.  R.  Wallace  — so  struck  me  by  its  seeming  truth 
to  nature  that  I fully  trusted  to  it,  and  began  my  journey, 
following  the  indications  of  the  map.  In  company  with  a 
young  and  promising  naturalist,  Polakoff,  and  a topo- 
grapher, I went  first  down  the  Lena  to  the  northern  gold 
mines.  There  we  equipped  our  expedition,  taking  pro- 
visions for  three  months,  and  started  southward.  An  old 
Yakut  hunter,  who  twenty  years  before  had  once  followed  the 
passage  indicated  on  the  Tungus  map,  undertook  to  act  for  us 
as  guide,  and  to  cross  the  mountain  region,  — full  250  miles 
wide,  — following  the  river  valleys  and  gorges  indicated  by 
the  knife  of  the  Tungus  on  the  birch-bark  map.  He  really 
accomplished  this  wonderful  feat,  although  there  was  no 
track  of  any  sort  to  follow,  and  all  the  valleys  that  one  sees 
from  the  top  of  a mountain  pass,  all  equally  filled  with 
woods,  seem,  to  the  unpracticed  eye,  to  be  absolutely  alike. 

This  time  the  passage  was  found.  For  three  months 
we  wandered  in  the  almost  totally  uninhabited  mountain 
deserts  and  over  the  marshy  plateau,  till  at  last  we  reached 
our  destination,  Chita.  I am  told  that  this  passage  is  now 
of  value  for  bringing  cattle  from  the  south  to  the  gold 
mines ; as  for  me,  the  journey  helped  me  immensely  after- 
ward in  finding  the  key  to  the  structure  of  the  mountains 
and  plateaus  of  Siberia,  — but  I am  not  writing  a book  of 
travel,  and  must  stop. 

The  years  that  I spent  in  Siberia  taught  me  many  lessons 
which  I could  hardly  have  learned  elsewhere.  I soon 
realized  the  absolute  impossibility  of  doing  anything  really 
useful  for  the  mass  of  the  people  by  means  of  the  adminis- 
trative machinery.  With  this  illusion  I parted  forever. 
Then  I began  to  understand  not  only  men  and  human 
character,  but  also  the  inner  springs  of  the  life  of  human 


216 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


society.  The  constructive  work  of  the  unknown  masses, 
which  so  seldom  finds  any  mention  in  books,  and  the  im- 
portance of  that  constructive  work  in  the  growth  of  forms 
of  society,  fully  appeared  before  my  eyes.  To  witness,  for 
instance,  the  ways  in  which  the  communities  of  Dukho- 
bdrtsy  (brothers  of  those  who  are  now  going  to  settle  in 
Canada,  and  who  find  such  a hearty  support  in  the  United 
States)  migrated  to  the  Amur  region,  to  see  the  immense 
advantages  which  they  got  from  their  semi-communistic 
brotherly  organization,  and  to  realize  what  a wonderful 
success  their  colonization  was,  amidst  all  the  failures  of 
state  colonization,  was  learning  something  which  cannot  be 
learned  from  books.  Again,  to  live  with  natives,  to  see  at 
work  all  the  complex  forms  of  social  organization  which 
they  have  elaborated  far  away  from  the  influence  of  any  civ- 
ilization, was,  as  it  were,  to  store  up  floods  of  light  which 
illuminated  my  subsequent  reading.  The  part  which  the 
unknown  masses  play  in  the  accomplishment  of  all  impor- 
tant historical  events,  and  even  in  war,  became  evident  to 
me  from  direct  observation,  and  I came  to  hold  ideas  similar 
to  those  which  Tolstoy  expresses  concerning  the  leaders  and 
the  masses  in  his  monumental  work,  “ War  and  Peace.” 

Having  been  brought  up  in  a serf-owner’s  family,  I 
entered  active  life,  like  all  young  men  of  my  time,  with  a 
great  deal  of  confidence  in  the  necessity  of  commanding, 
ordering,  scolding,  punishing,  and  the  like.  But  when,  at 
an  early  stage,  I had  to  manage  serious  enterprises  and  to 
deal  with  men,  and  when  each  mistake  would  lead  at  once 
to  heavy  consequences,  I began  to  appreciate  the  difference 
between  acting  on  the  principle  of  command  and  discipline 
and  acting  on  the  principle  of  common  understanding.  The 
former  works  admirably  in  a military  parade,  but  it  is  worth 
nothing  where  real  life  is  concerned,  and  the  aim  can  be 
achieved  only  through  the  severe  effort  of  many  converging 
wills.  Although  I did  not  then  formulate  my  observations 


LESSONS  FROM  LIFE  IN  SIBERIA 


217 


in  terms  borrowed  from  party  struggles,  I may  say  now  that 
I lost  in  Siberia  whatever  faith  in  state  discipline  I had 
cherished  before.  I was  prepared  to  become  an  anarchist. 

From  the  age  of  nineteen  to  twenty-five  I had  to  work  out 
important  schemes  of  reform,  to  deal  with  hundreds  of  men 
on  the  Amur,  to  prepare  and  to  make  risky  expeditions  with 
ridiculously  small  means,  and  so  on  ; and  if  all  these  things 
ended  more  or  less  successfully,  I account  for  it  only  by  the 
fact  that  I soon  understood  that  in  serious  work  command- 
ing and  discipline  are  of  little  avail.  Men  of  initiative  are 
required  everywhere  ; but  once  the  impulse  has  been  given, 
the  enterprise  must  be  conducted,  especially  in  Russia,  not 
in  military  fashion,  but  in  a sort  of  communal  way,  by 
means  of  common  understanding.  I wish  that  all  framers  of 
plans  of  state  discipline  could  pass  through  the  school  of 
real  life  before  they  begin  to  frame  their  state  Utopias.  We 
should  then  hear  far  less  than  at  present  of  schemes  of 
military  and  pyramidal  organization  of  society. 

With  all  that,  life  in  Siberia  became  less  and  less  attract- 
ive to  me,  although  my  brother  Alexander  had  joined  me 
in  1864  at  Irkutsk,  where  he  commanded  a squadron  of 
Cossacks.  We  were  happy  to  be  together ; we  read  a great 
deal,  and  discussed  all  the  philosophical,  scientific,  and 
sociological  questions  of  the  day ; but  we  both  longed  after 
intellectual  life,  and  there  was  none  in  Siberia.  The 
occasional  passage  through  Irkutsk  of  Raphael  Pumpelly  or 
of  Adolph  Bastian  — the  only  two  men  of  science  who 
visited  our  capital  during  my  stay  there  — was  quite  an 
event  for  both  of  us.  The  scientific  and  especially  the 
political  life  of  Western  Europe,  of  which  we  heard  through 
the  papers,  attracted  us,  and  the  return  to  Russia  was  the 
subject  to  which  we  continually  came  back  in  our  conver- 
sations. Finally,  the  insurrection  of  the  Polish  exiles  in 
1866  opened  our  eyes  to  the  false  position  we  both  occupied 
as  officers  of  the  Russian  army. 


VIII 


I was  far  away,  in  the  Vitim  mountains,  when  the 
Polish  exiles,  who  were  employed  in  excavating  a new  road 
in  the  cliffs  round  Lake  Baikal,  made  a desperate  attempt 
to  break  their  chains,  and  to  force  their  way  to  China  across 
Mongolia.  Troops  were  sent  out  against  them,  and  a 
Russian  officer  — whom  I will  call  Pdtaloff  — was  killed 
by  the  insurgents.  I heard  of  it  on  my  return  to  Irkutsk, 
where  some  fifty  Poles  were  to  be  tried  by  court-martial. 
The  sittings  of  courts-martial  being  open  in  Russia,  I fol- 
lowed this,  taking  detailed  notes  of  the  proceedings,  which 
I sent  to  a St.  Petersburg  paper,  and  which  were  published 
in  full,  to  the  great  dissatisfaction  of  the  governor-general. 

Eleven  thousand  Poles,  men  and  women,  had  been  trans- 
ported to  East  Siberia  alone,  in  consequence  of  the  insur- 
rection of  1863.  They  -were  chiefly  students,  artists,  ex- 
officers, nobles,  and  especially  skilled  artisans  from  the 
intelligent  and  highly  developed  workers’  population  of 
Warsaw  and  other  towns.  A great  number  of  them  were 
kept  at  hard  labor,  while  the  remainder  were  settled  all 
over  the  country,  in  villages  where  they  could  find  no  work 
whatever,  and  lived  in  a state  of  semi-starvation.  Those 
who  were  at  hard  labor  worked  either  at  Chitd,  building 
the  barges  for  the  Amiir,  — these  were  the  happiest,  — or 
in  iron  works  of  the  Crown,  or  in  salt  works.  I saw  some 
of  the  latter,  on  the  Lena,  standing  half-naked  in  a shanty, 
around  an  immense  cauldron  filled  with  salt-brine,  and 
mixing  the  thick,  boiling  brine  with  long  shovels,  in  an 
infernal  temperature,  while  the  gates  of  the  shanty  were 
wide  open,  to  make  a strong  current  of  glacial  air.  Aftei 


POLISH  EXILES  IN  SIBERIA  219 

two  years  of  such  work  these  martyrs  were  sure  to  die 
from  consumption. 

Afterward,  a considerable  number  of  Polish  exiles  were 
employed  as  navvies  building  a road  along  the  southern 
coast  of  Lake  Baikal.  This  narrow  Alpine  lake,  four 
hundred  miles  long,  surrounded  by  beautiful  mountains 
rising  three  to  five  thousand  feet  above  its  level,  cuts  off 
Transbaikalia  and  the  Amur  from  Irkutsk.  In  winter  it 
may  be  crossed  upon  the  ice,  and  in  summer  there  are 
steamers ; but  for  six  weeks  in  the  spring  and  another  six 
weeks  in  the  autumn  the  only  way  to  reach  Chitd  and 
Kyakhta  (for  Pekin)  from  Irkutsk  is  to  travel  on  horse- 
back a long,  circuitous  route,  across  mountains  7000  to 
8000  feet  in  altitude.  I once  traveled  along  this  track, 
greatly  enjoying  the  scenery  of  the  mountains,  which  were 
snow-clad  in  May,  but  otherwise  the  journey  was  really 
awful.  To  climb  eight  miles  only,  to  the  top  of  the  main 
pass,  Khamar-daban,  it  took  me  the  whole  day  from  three 
in  the  morning  till  eight  at  night.  Our  horses  continually 
fell  through  the  thawing  snow,  plunging  with  their  riders 
many  times  a day  into  the  icy  water  which  flowed  under- 
neath the  snow  crust.  It  was  decided  accordingly  to  build 
a permanent  road  along  the  southern  coast  of  the  lake, 
blasting  out  a passage  in  the  steep,  almost  vertical  cliffs 
which  rise  along  the  shore,  and  spanning  with  bridges  a hun- 
dred wild  torrents  that  furiously  rush  from  the  mountains 
into  the  lake.  Polish  exiles  were  employed  at  this  hard 
work. 

Several  batches  of  Russian  political  exiles  had  been 
sent  during  the  last  century  to  Siberia,  but  with  the  sub- 
missiveness to  fate  which  is  characteristic  of  the  Russians, 
they  never  revolted  ; they  allowed  themselves  to  be  killed 
inch  by  inch  without  ever  attempting  to  free  themselves. 
The  Poles,  on  the  contrary,  — to  their  honor  be  it  said,  — 
were  never  so  submissive  as  that,  and  this  time  they  broke 


220 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


into  open  revolt.  It  was  evident  that  they  had  no  chanct 
of  success,  but  they  revolted  nevertheless.  They  had  before 
them  the  great  lake,  and  behind  them  a girdle  of  absolutely 
impracticable  mountains,  beyond  which  spread  the  wilder- 
nesses of  North  Mongolia ; but  they  conceived  the  idea  of 
disarming  the  soldiers  who  guarded  them,  forging  those 
terrible  weapons  of  the  Polish  insurrections,  — scythes 
fastened  as  pikes  on  long  poles,  — and  making  their  way 
across  the  mountains  and  across  Mongolia,  towards  China, 
where  they  would  find  English  ships  to  take  them.  One 
day  the  news  came  to  Irkutsk  that  part  of  those  Poles 
who  were  at  work  on  the  Baikal  road  had  disarmed  a dozen 
soldiers  and  broken  out  into  revolt.  Eighty  soldiers  were 
all  that  could  be  dispatched  against  them  from  Irkutsk; 
crossing  the  Baikal  in  a steamer,  they  went  to  meet  the 
insurgents  on  the  other  side  of  the  lake. 

The  winter  of  1866  had  been  unusually  dull  at  Irkutsk. 
In  the  Siberian  capital  there  is  no  such  distinction  between 
the  different  classes  as  one  sees  in  Russian  provincial  towns, 
and  Irkutsk  “ society,”  composed  of  numerous  officers  and 
officials,  together  with  the  wives  and  daughters  of  local 
traders  and  even  clergymen,  met  during  the  winter,  every 
Thursday,  at  the  Assembly  rooms.  This  winter,  however, 
there  was  no  “ go  ” in  the  evening  parties.  Amateur  the- 
atricals, too,  were  not  successful ; and  gambling,  which  usu- 
ally flourished  on  a grand  scale  at  Irkutsk,  only  dragged 
along ; a serious  want  of  money  was  felt  among  the  offi- 
cials, and  even  the  arrival  of  several  mining  officers  was 
not  signalized  by  the  heaps  of  banknotes  with  which  these 
privileged  gentlemen  commonly  enlivened  the  knights  of 
the  green  tables.  The  season  was  decidedly  dull, — just 
the  season  for  starting  spiritualistic  experiences  with  talk- 
ing tables  and  talkative  spirits.  A gentleman  who  had 
been  the  pet  of  Irkutsk  society  the  previous  winter  for  the 
tales  from  popular  life  which  he  recited  with  great  talent, 


A HOPELESS  REVOLT 


221 


seeing  that  interest  in  himself  and  his  tales  was  failing, 
took  now  to  spiritualism  as  a new  amusement.  He  was 
clever,  and  in  a week’s  time  all  Irkutsk  society  was  mad 
over  talking  spirits.  A new  life  was  infused  into  those 
who  did  not  know  how  to  kill  time.  Talking  tables  ap- 
peared in  every  drawing-room,  and  love-making  went  hand 
in  hand  with  spirit  rapping.  Lieutenant  Potaloff  took  it 
all  in  deadly  earnest,  — talking  tables  and  love.  Per- 
haps he  was  less  fortunate  with  the  latter  than  with  the 
tables  ; at  any  rate,  when  the  news  of  the  Polish  insurrection 
came,  he  asked  to  be  sent  to  the  spot  with  the  eighty 
soldiers.  He  hoped  to  return  with  a halo  of  military  glory. 

“ I go  against  the  Poles,”  he  wrote  in  his  diary ; “ it 
would  be  so  interesting  to  be  slightly  wounded  ! ” 

He  was  killed.  He  rode  on  horseback  by  the  side  of 
the  colonel  who  commanded  the  soldiers,  when  “ the  battle 
with  the  insurgents  ” — the  glowing  description  of  which 
may  be  found  in  the  annals  of  the  general  staff — began. 
The  soldiers  were  slowly  advancing  along  the  road  when 
they  met  some  fifty  Poles,  five  or  six  of  whom  were  armed 
with  rifles  and  the  remainder  with  sticks  and  scythes.  The 
Poles  occupied  the  forest  and  from  time  to  time  fired  their 
guns.  The  file  of  soldiers  returned  the  fire.  Pdtaloff 
twice  asked  the  permission  of  the  colonel  to  dismount  and 
dash  into  the  forest.  The  colonel  very  angrily  ordered 
him  to  stay  where  he  was.  Notwithstanding  this,  the  next 
moment  the  lieutenant  had  disappeared.  Several  shots  re- 
sounded in  the  wood  in  succession,  followed  by  wild  cries ; 
the  soldiers  rushed  that  way,  and  found  the  lieutenant 
bleeding  on  the  grass.  The  Poles  fired  their  last  shots  and 
surrendered ; the  battle  was  over,  and  Pdtaloff  was  dead. 
He  had  rushed,  revolver  in  hand,  into  the  thicket,  where 
he  found  several  Poles  armed  with  scythes.  He  fired  upon 
them  all  his  shots,  in  a haphazard  way,  wounding  one  of 
them,  whereupon  the  others  rushed  upon  him  with  theil 
scythes. 


222 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


At  the  other  end  of  the  road,  on  this  side  of  the  lake, 
two  Russian  officers  behaved  in  the  most  abominable  way 
towards  the  Poles  who  were  building  the  same  road,  hut 
took  no  part  in  the  insurrection.  One  of  the  two  officers 
rushed  into  their  tent,  swearing  and  firing  his  revolver  at 
the  peaceful  exiles,  two  of  whom  he  badly  wounded. 

Now,  the  logic  of  the  Siberian  military  authorities  was 
that  as  a Russian  officer  had  been  killed,  several  Poles  must 
be  executed.  The  court-martial  condemned  five  of  them 
to  death : Szaramdwicz,  a pianist,  a fine  looking  man  of 
thirty,  who  was  the  leader  of  the  insurrection  ; Celfnski,  a 
man  of  sixty,  who  had  once  been  an  officer  in  the  Russian 
army ; and  three  others  whose  names  I do  not  remember. 

The  governor-general  telegraphed  to  St.  Petersburg  ask- 
ing permission  to  reprieve  the  condemned  insurgents; 
but  no  answer  came.  He  had  promised  us  not  to  execute 
them,  but  after  having  waited  several  days  for  the  reply, 
he  ordered  the  sentence  to  be  carried  out  in  secrecy,  early 
in  the  morning.  The  reply  from  St.  Petersburg  came  four 
weeks  later,  by  post : the  governor  was  left  to  act  “ accord- 
ing to  the  best  of  his  understanding.”  In  the  mean  time 
five  brave  men  had  been  shot. 

The  insurrection,  people  said,  was  foolish.  And  yet 
this  brave  handful  of  insurgents  had  obtained  something. 
The  news  of  it  reached  Europe.  The  executions,  the  bru- 
talities of  the  two  officers,  which  became  known  through 
the  proceedings  of  the  court,  produced  a commotion  in 
Austria,  and  Austria  interfered  in  favor  of  the  Galicians 
who  had  taken  part  in  the  revolution  of  1863  and  had 
been  sent  to  Siberia.  Soon  after  the  insurrection,  the 
fate  of  the  Polish  exiles  in  Siberia  was  sribstantially  bet- 
tered, and  they  owed  it  to  the  insurgents,  — to  those  five 
brave  men  who  were  shot  at  Irkutsk,  and  those  who  had 
taken  arms  by  their  side. 

For  my  brother  and  myself  this  insurrection  was  a great 


LEAVING  THE  MILITARY  SERVICE 


223 


lesson.  We  realized  what  it  meant  to  belong  in  any  way 
to  the  army.  I was  far  away,  but  my  brother  was  at 
Irkutsk,  and  his  squadron  was  dispatched  against  the  insur- 
gents. Happily,  the  commander  of  the  regiment  to  which 
my  brother  belonged  knew  him  well,  and,  under  some  pre- 
text, he  ordered  another  officer  to  take  command  of  the 
mobilized  part  of  the  squadron.  Otherwise,  Alexander,  of 
course,  would  have  refused  to  march,  if  I had  been  at 
Irkutsk,  I should  have  done  the  same. 

We  decided  then  to  leave  the  military  service  and  to 
return  to  Russia.  This  was  not  an  easy  matter,  especially 
as  Alexander  had  married  in  Siberia ; but  at  last  all  was 
arranged,  and  early  in  1867  we  were  on  our  way  to  St 
Petersburg. 


PART  FOURTH 


ST.  PETERSBURG;  FIRST  JOURNEY  TO  WEST- 
ERN EUROPE 

I 

Early  in  the  autumn  of  1867  my  brother  and  I,  with 
his  family,  were  settled  at  St.  Petersburg.  I entered  the 
university,  and  sat  on  the  benches  among  young  men,  al- 
most boys,  much  younger  than  myself.  What  I so  longed 
for  five  years  before  was  accomplished,  — I could  study ; 
and,  acting  upon  the  idea  that  a thorough  training  in  math- 
ematics is  the  only  solid  basis  for  all  subsequent  work  and 
thought,  I joined  the  physico-mathematical  faculty  in  its 
mathematical  section.  My  brother  entered  the  military 
academy  for  jurisprudence,  whilst  I entirely  gave  up  military 
service,  to  the  great  dissatisfaction  of  my  father,  who  hated 
the  very  sight  of  a civilian  dress.  We  both  had  now  to 
rely  entirely  upon  ourselves. 

Study  at  the  university  and  scientific  work  absorbed  all 
my  time  for  the  next  five  years.  A student  of  the  mathe- 
matical faculty  has,  of  course,  very  much  to  do,  but  my 
previous  studies  in  higher  mathematics  permitted  me  to  de- 
vote part  of  my  time  to  geography  ; and,  moreover,  I had 
not  lost  in  Siberia  the  habit  of  hard  work. 

The  report  of  my  last  expedition  was  in  print ; but  in  the 
meantime  a vast  problem  rose  before  me.  The  journeys 
that  I had  made  in  Siberia  had  convinced  me  that  the 
mountains  which  at  that  time  were  drawn  on  the  maps  of 
Northern  Asia  were  mostly  fantastic,  and  gave  no  idea  what- 
ever of  the  structure  of  the  country.  The  great  plateaus 


MAPS  OF  NORTHERN  ASIA 


225 


which  are  so  prominent  a feature  of  Asia  were  not  even 
suspected  by  those  who  drew  the  maps.  Instead  of  them, 
several  great  ridges,  such  as,  for  instance,  the  eastern  por- 
tion of  the  Stanovoi,  which  used  to  be  drawn  on  the  maps 
as  a black  worm  creeping  eastward,  had  grown  up  in  the 
topographic  bureaus,  contrary  to  the  indications  and  even  to 
the  sketches  of  such  explorers  as  L.  Schwartz.  These  ridges 
have  no  existence  in  nature.  The  heads  of  the  rivers 
which  flow  toward  the  Arctic  Ocean  on  the  one  side,  and 
toward  the  Pacific  on  the  other,  lie  intermingled  on  the  sur- 
face of  a vast  plateau  ; they  rise  in  the  same  marshes.  But, 
in  the  European  topographer’s  imagination,  the  highest 
mountain  ridges  must  run  along  the  chief  water-partings, 
and  the  topographers  had  drawn  there  the  highest  Alps,  of 
which  there  is  no  trace  in  reality.  Many  such  imaginary 
mountains  were  made  to  intersect  the  maps  of  Northern 
Asia  in  all  directions. 

To  discover  the  true  leading  principles  in  the  disposition 
of  the  mountains  of  Asia  — the  harmony  of  mountain  for- 
mation — now  became  a question  which  for  years  absorbed 
my  attention.  For  a considerable  time  the  old  maps,  and 
still  more  the  generalizations  of  Alexander  von  Humboldt, 
who,  after  a long  study  of  Chinese  sources,  had  covered 
Asia  with  a network  of  mountains  running  along  the  merid- 
ians and  parallels,  hampered  me  in  my  researches,  until  at 
last  I saw  that  even  Humboldt’s  generalizations,  stimulating 
though  they  had  been,  did  not  agree  with  the  facts. 

Beginning,  then,  with  the  beginning,  in  a purely  induc- 
tive way,  I collected  all  the  barometrical  observations  of 
previous  travelers,  and  from  them  calculated  hundreds  of 
altitudes ; I marked  on  a large  scale  map  all  geological  and 
physical  observations  that  had  been  made  by  different  trav- 
elers, — the  facts,  not  the  hypotheses  ; and  I tried  to  find 
out  what  structural  lines  would  answer  best  to  the  observed 
realities.  This  preparatory  work  took  me  more  than  tv* 


226 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


years ; and  then  followed  months  of  intense  thought,  in 
order  to  find  out  what  all  the  bewildering  chaos  of  scattered 
observations  meant,  until  one  day,  all  of  a sudden,  the 
whole  became  clear  and  comprehensible,  as  if  it  were  illu- 
minated with  a flash  of  light.  The  main  structural  lines  of 
Asia  are  not  north  and  south,  or  west  and  east ; they  are 
from  the  southwest  to  the  northeast, — just  as,  in  the 
Rocky  Mountains  and  the  plateaus  of  America,  the  lines 
are  northwest  to  southeast ; only  secondary  ridges  shoot 
out  northwest.  Moreover,  the  mountains  of  Asia  are  not 
bundles  of  independent  ridges,  like  the  Alps,  but  are  sub- 
ordinated to  an  immense  plateau,  an  old  continent  which 
once  pointed  toward  Behring  Strait.  High  border  ridges 
have  towered  up  along  its  fringes,  and  in  the  course  of 
ages,  terraces,  formed  by  later  sediments,  have  emerged 
from  the  sea,  thus  adding  on  both  sides  to  the  width  of  that 
primitive  backbone  of  Asia. 

There  are  not  many  joys  in  human  life  equal  to  the  joy 
of  the  sudden  birth  of  a generalization,  illuminating  the 
mind  after  a long  period  of  patient  research.  What  has 
seemed  for  years  so  chaotic,  so  contradictory,  and  so  pro- 
blematic takes  at  once  its  proper  position  within  an  harmo- 
nious "whole.  Out  of  a wild  confusion  of  facts  and  from 
behind  the  fog  of  guesses,  — contradicted  almost  as  soon  as 
they  are  born,  — a stately  picture  makes  its  appearance,  like 
an  Alpine  chain  suddenly  emerging  in  all  its  grandeur  from 
the  mists  which  concealed  it  the  moment  before,  glittering 
under  the  rays  of  the  sun  in  all  its  simplicity  and  variety, 
in  all  its  mightiness  and  beauty.  And  when  the  general- 
ization is  put  to  a test,  by  applying  it  to  hundreds  of  sepa- 
rate facts  which  had  seemed  to  be  hopelessly  contradictory 
the  moment  before,  each  of  them  assumes  its  due  position, 
increasing  the  impressiveness  of  the  picture,  accentuating 
some  characteristic  outline,  or  adding  an  unsuspected  detail 
full  of  meaning.  The  generalization  gains  in  strength  and 


MY  CHIEF  CONTRIBUTION  TO  SCIENCE 


227 


extent ; its  foundations  grow  in  width  and  solidity  ; while 
in  the  distance,  through  the  far-off  mist  on  the  horizon,  the 
eye  detects  the  outlines  of  new  and  still  wider  generaliza- 
tions. 

He  who  has  once  in  his  life  experienced  this  joy  of  scien- 
tific creation  will  never  forget  it ; he  will  be  longing  to 
renew  it ; and  he  cannot  hut  feel  with  pain  that  this  sort  of 
happiness  is  the  lot  of  so  few  of  us,  while  so  many  could 
also  live  through  it,  — on  a small  or  on  a grand  scale,  — if 
scientific  methods  and  leisure  were  not  limited  to  a handful 
of  men. 

This  work  I consider  my  chief  contribution  to  science. 
My  first  intention  was  to  produce  a bulky  volume,  in  which 
the  new  ideas  about  the  mountains  and  plateaus  of  Northern 
Asia  should  be  supported  by  a detailed  examination  of  each 
separate  region  ; but  in  1873,  when  I saw  that  I should  soon 
be  arrested,  I only  prepared  a map  which  embodied  my  views 
and  wrote  an  explanatory  paper.  Both  were  published  by 
the  Geographical  Society,  under  the  supervision  of  my  bro- 
ther, while  I was  already  in  the  fortress  of  St.  Peter  and 
St.  Paul.  Petermann,  who  was  then  preparing  a map  of 
Asia,  and  knew  my  preliminary  work,  adopted  my  scheme 
for  his  map,  and  it  has  been  accepted  since  by  most  carto- 
graphers. The  map  of  Asia,  as  it  is  now  understood,  ex- 
plains, I believe,  the  main  physical  features  of  the  great 
continent,  as  well  as  the  distribution  of  its  climates,  faunas, 
and  floras,  and  even  its  history.  It  reveals,  also,  as  I was 
able  to  see  during  my  last  journey  to  America,  striking 
analogies  between  the  structure  and  the  geological  growth 
of  the  two  continents  of  the  northern  hemisphere.  Very 
few  cartographers  could  say  now  whence  all  these  changes 
in  the  map  of  Asia  have  come ; but  in  science  it  is  better 
that  new  ideas  should  make  their  way  independently  of  any 
name  attached  to  them.  The  errors,  which  are  unavoidable 
in  a first  generalization,  are  easier  to  rectify. 


n 


At  the  same  time  I worked  a great  deal  for  the  Russian 
Geographical  Society  in  my  capacity  of  secretary  to  its  sec* 
lion  of  physical  geography. 

Great  interest  was  taken  then  in  the  exploration  of  Tur. 
kestan  and  the  Pamirs.  Syevertsoff  had  just  returned  after 
several  years  of  travel.  A great  zoologist,  a gifted  geo- 
grapher, and  one  of  the  most  intelligent  men  I ever  came 
across,  he,  like  so  many  Russians,  disliked  writing.  When 
he  had  made  an  oral  communication  at  a meeting  of  the 
society,  he  could  not  be  induced  to  write  anything  beyond 
revising  the  reports  of  his  communication,  so  that  all  that 
has  been  published  over  his  signature  is  very  far  from 
doing  full  justice  to  the  real  value  of  the  observations  and 
the  generalizations  he  had  made.  This  reluctance  to  put 
down  in  writing  the  results  of  thought  and  observation  is 
unfortunately  not  uncommon  in  Russia.  The  remarks  on 
the  orography  of  Turkestan,  on  the  geographical  distribu- 
tion of  plants  and  animals,  on  the  part  played  by  hybrids 
in  the  production  of  new  species  of  birds,  and  so  on,  which 
I have  heard  Syevertsoff  make,  and  the  observations  on  the 
importance  of  mutual  support  in  the  progressive  develop- 
ment of  species  which  I have  found  just  mentioned  in  a 
couple  of  lines  in  some  report  of  a meeting,  — these  bore 
the  stamp  of  more  than  ordinary  talent  and  originality ; 
but  he  did  not  possess  the  exuberant  force  of  exposition  in 
an  appropriately  beautiful  form  which  might  have  made 
of  him  one  of  the  most  prominent  men  of  science  of  our 
time. 

Mikldkho-Maklay,  well  known  in  Australia,  which  to 


MIKLUKHO-MAKLA.Y 


229 


wards  the  end  of  his  life  became  the  country  of  his  adop- 
tion, belonged  to  the  same  order  of  men : the  men  who 
have  had  so  much  more  to  say  than  they  have  said  in  print. 
He  was  a tiny,  nervous  man,  always  suffering  from  malaria, 
who  had  just  returned  from  the  coasts  of  the  Red  Sea  when 
I made  his  acquaintance.  A follower  of  Haeckel,  he  had 
worked  a great  deal  upon  the  marine  invertebrates  in  their 
natural  surroundings.  The  Geographical  Society  managed 
next  to  get  him  taken  on  board  a Russian  man-of-war  to 
some  unknown  part  of  the  coast  of  New  Guinea,  where  he 
wanted  to  study  the  most  primitive  savages.  Accompanied 
by  one  sailor  only,  he  was  left  on  this  inhospitable  shore, 
the  inhabitants  of  which  had  the  reputation  of  terrible 
cannibals.  A hut  was  built  for  the  two  Crusoes,  and  they 
lived  eighteen  months  or  more  near  a native  village  on 
excellent  terms  with  the  natives.  Always  to  be  straight- 
forward towards  them,  and  never  to  deceive  them,  — not 
even  in  the  most  trifling  matters,  not  even  for  scientific 
purposes,  — was  the  point  on  which  he  was  most  scrupulous. 
When  he  was  traveling  some  time  later  in  the  Malayan  archi- 
pelago, he  had  with  him  a native  who  had  entered  into  his 
service  on  the  express  condition  of  never  being  photographed. 
The  natives,  as  every  one  knows,  consider  that  something  is 
taken  out  of  them  when  their  likeness  is  taken  by  photo- 
graphy.  One  day  when  the  native  was  fast  asleep,  Makl&y, 
who  was  collecting  anthropological  materials,  confessed  that 
he  was  awfully  tempted  to  photograph  his  native,  the  more 
so  as  he  was  a typical  representative  of  his  tribe  and  would 
never  have  known  that  he  had  been  photographed.  But 
he  remembered  his  agreement  and  refrained.  When  he  left 
New  Guinea,  the  natives  made  him  promise  to  return ; and 
a few  years  later,  although  he  was  severely  ill,  he  kept  his 
word  and  did  return.  This  remarkable  man  has,  however, 
published  only  an  infinitesimal  part  of  the  truly  invaluable 
observations  he  made. 


230 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


Fedchenko,  who  had  made  extensive  zoological  observa- 
tions in  Turkestan,  — in  company  with  his  wife,  Olga 
Fedchenko,  also  a naturalist,  — was,  as  we  used  to  say,  a 
“ West  European.”  He  worked  hard  to  bring  out  in  an 
elaborated  form  the  results  of  his  observations ; but  he  was, 
unfortunately,  killed  in  climbing  a mountain  in  Switzer- 
land. Glowing  with  youthful  ardor  after  his  journeys  in 
the  Turkestan  highlands,  and  full  of  confidence  in  his  own 
powers,  he  undertook  an  ascent  without  proper  guides,  and 
perished  in  a snowstorm.  His  wife,  happily,  completed 
the  publication  of  his  “ Travels  ” after  his  death,  and  I be- 
lieve she  has  now  a son  who  continues  the  work  of  his 
father  and  mother. 

I also  saw  a great  deal  of  Prjevalsky,  or  rather  Prze- 
walski,  as  his  Polish  name  ought  to  be  spelled,  although  he 
himself  preferred  to  appear  as  a “ Russian  patriot.”  He 
was  a passionate  hunter,  and  the  enthusiasm  with  which 
he  made  his  explorations  of  Central  Asia  was  almost  as 
much  the  result  of  his  desire  to  hunt  all  sorts  of  difficult 
game,  — bucks,  wild  camels,  wild  horses,  and  so  on,  — as 
of  his  desire  to  discover  lands,  new  and  difficult  to  ap- 
proach. When  he  was  induced  to  speak  of  his  discoveries, 
he  would  soon  interrupt  his  modest  descriptions  with  an 
enthusiastic  exclamation : “ But  what  game  there  ! "What 
hunting ! ” And  he  would  describe  enthusiastically  how 
he  crept  such  and  such  a distance  to  approach  a wild  horse 
within  shooting  range.  No  sooner  was  he  back  at  St. 
Petersburg  than  he  planned  a new  expedition,  and  parsi- 
moniously laying  aside  all  his  money,  tried  to  increase  it 
by  stock  exchange  operations  for  that  purpose.  He  was 
the  type  of  a traveler  in  his  strong  physique,  and  in  his 
capacity  for  living  for  years  the  rough  life  of  a mountain 
hunter.  He  delighted  in  leading  such  a life.  He  made 
bis  first  journey  with  only  three  comrades,  and  always  kept 
®n  excellent  terms  with  the  natives.  However,  as  his 


INTEREST  IN  ARCTIC  EXPLORATION 


231 


subsequent  expeditions  took  on  more  of  a military  charac* 
ter,  he  began  unfortunately  to  rely  more  upon  the  force 
of  his  armed  escort  than  upon  peaceful  intercourse  with  the 
natives,  and  I heard  it  said  in  well-informed  quarters  that 
even  if  he  had  not  died  at  the  very  start  of  his  Tibet  ex- 
pedition, — so  admirably  and  peacefully  conducted  after  his 
death  by  his  companions,  Pyevtsoff,  Robordvsky,  andKozldff, 
— he  very  probably  would  not  have  returned  alive. 

There  was  considerable  activity  at  that  time  in  the  Geo- 
graphical Society,  and  many  were  the  geographical  ques- 
tions in  which  our  section,  and  consequently  its  secretary, 
took  a lively  interest.  Most  of  them  were  too  technical 
to  be  mentioned  in  this  place,  but  I must  allude  to  the 
awakening  of  interest  in  the  Russian  settlements,  the  fish- 
eries, and  the  trade  in  the  Russian  portion  of  the  Arctic 
Ocean,  which  took  place  in  these  years.  A Siberian  mer- 
chant and  gold  miner,  Sidoroff,  made  the  most  persevering 
efforts  to  awaken  that  interest.  He  foresaw  that  with 
a little  aid  in  the  shape  of  naval  schools,  the  exploration 
of  the  White  Sea,  and  so  on,  the  Russian  fisheries  and 
Russian  navigation  could  be  largely  developed.  But  that 
little,  unfortunately,  had  to  be  done  entirely  through  St. 
Petersburg ; and  the  ruling  powers  of  that  courtly,  bureau- 
cratic, literary,  artistic,  and  cosmopolitan  city  could  not 
be  moved  to  take  an  interest  in  anything  provincial.  Poor 
Sidoroff  was  simply  ridiculed  for  his  efforts.  Interest  in 
our  far  north  had  to  be  enforced  upon  the  Russian  Geo- 
graphical Society  from  abroad. 

In  the  years  1869-71  the  bold  Norwegian  seal-hunters 
had  quite  unexpectedly  opened  the  Kara  Sea  to  navigation. 
To  our  extreme  astonishment,  we  learned  one  day  at  the 
society  that  that  sea,  which  lies  between  the  island  of 
Ndvaya  Zemlya  and  the  Siberian  coast,  and  which  we  used 
confidently  to  describe  in  our  writings  as  “ an  ice  cellar 
permanently  stocked  with  ice,”  had  been  entered  by  a num- 


232 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


ber  of  small  Norwegian  schooners  and  crossed  by  them  in 
all  directions.  Even  the  wintering  place  of  the  famous 
Dutchman  Barentz,  which  we  believed  to  he  concealed 
forever  from  the  eyes  of  man  by  ice  fields  hundreds  of 
years  old,  had  been  visited  by  these  adventurous  Norse- 
men. 

“ Exceptional  seasons  and  an  exceptional  state  of  the  ice  ” 
was  what  our  old  navigators  said.  But  to  a few  of  us  it 
was  quite  evident  that,  with  their  small  schooners  and  their 
small  crews,  the  bold  Norwegian  hunters,  who  feel  at 
home  amidst  the  ice,  had  ventured  to  pierce  the  floating  ice 
which  usually  bars  the  way  to  the  Kara  Sea,  while  the 
commanders  of  government  ships,  hampered  by  the  respon- 
sibilities of  the  naval  service,  had  never  risked  doing  so. 

A general  interest  in  arctic  exploration  was  awakened  by 
these  discoveries.  In  fact,  it  was  the  seal-hunters  who 
opened  the  new  era  of  arctic  enthusiasm  which  culminated 
in  Nordenskjbld’s  circumnavigation  of  Asia,  in  the  per- 
manent establishment  of  the  northeastern  passage  to  Siberia, 
in  Peary’s  discovery  of  North  Greenland,  and  in  Nansen’s 
Eram  expedition.  Our  Russian  Geographical  Society  also 
began  to  move,  and  a committee  was  appointed  to  prepare 
the  scheme  of  a Russian  arctic  expedition,  and  to  indicate 
the  scientific  work  that  could  be  done  by  it.  Specialists 
undertook  to  write  each  of  the  special  scientific  chapters  of 
this  report ; but,  as  often  happens,  a few  chapters  only,  on 
botany,  geology,  and  meteorology,  were  ready  in  time, 
and  the  secretary  of  the  committee  — that  is,  myself  — had 
to  write  the  remainder.  Several  subjects,  such  as  marine 
zoology,  the  tides,  pendulum  observations,  and  terrestrial 
magnetism,  were  quite  new  to  me ; but  the  amount  of  work 
which  a healthy  man  can  accomplish  in  a short  time,  if  he 
strains  all  his  forces  and  goes  straight  to  the  root  of  the 
subject,  no  one  would  suppose  beforehand,  — and  so  my 
report  was  ready. 


PLANNING  AN  ARCTIC  EXPLORATION 


233 


It  concluded  by  advocating  a great  arctic  expedition, 
which  would  awaken  in  Russia  a permanent  interest  in 
arctic  questions  and  arctic  navigation,  and  in  the  meantime 
a reconnoitring  expedition  on  board  a schooner  chartered  in 
Norway  with  its  captain,  pushing  north  or  northeast  of  N<5- 
vaya  Zemlya.  This  expedition,  we  suggested,  might  also 
try  to  reach,  or  at  least  to  sight,  an  unknown  land  which 
must  be  situated  at  no  great  distance  from  Ndvaya  Zemlyd. 
The  probable  existence  of  such  a land  had  been  indicated 
by  an  officer  of  the  Russian  navy,  Baron  Schilling,  in  an 
excellent  but  little  known  paper  on  the  currents  in  the 
Arctic  Ocean.  When  I read  this  paper,  as  also  Lutke’s 
journey  to  Ndvaya  Zemlya,  and  made  myself  acquainted 
with  the  general  conditions  of  this  part  of  the  Arctic  Ocean, 
I saw  at  once  that  the  supposition  must  be  correct.  There 
must  be  a land  to  the  northwest  of  Ndvaya  Zemlya,  and  it 
must  reach  a higher  latitude  than  Spitsbergen.  The  steady 
position  of  the  ice  at  the  west  of  Ndvaya  Zemlya,  the  mud 
and  stones  on  it,  and  various  other  smaller  indications  con- 
firmed the  hypothesis.  Besides,  if  such  a land  were  not 
located  there,  the  ice  current  which  flows  westward  from 
the  meridian  of  Behring  Strait  to  Greenland  (the  current 
of  the  Fram’s  drift)  would,  as  Baron  Schilling  had  truly 
remarked,  reach  the  North  Cape  and  cover  the  coasts  of 
Laponia  with  masses  of  ice,  just  as  it  covers  the  northern 
extremity  of  Greenland.  The  warm  current  alone  — a 
feeble  continuation  of  the  Gulf  Stream  — could  not  have 
prevented  the  accumulation  of  ice  on  the  coasts  of  Northern 
Europe.  This  land,  as  is  known,  was  discovered  a couple 
of  years  later  by  the  Austrian  expedition,  and  named  Franz 
Josef  Land. 

The  arctic  report  had  a quite  unexpected  result  for  me. 
I was  offered  the  leadership  of  the  reconnoitring  expedition, 
on  board  a Norwegian  schooner  chartered  for  the  purpose. 
I replied,  of  course,  that  I had  never  been  to  sea ; but  I 


234 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


•was  told  that  by  combining  the  experience  of  a Carlsen  or  a 
Johansen  with  the  initiative  of  a man  of  science,  something 
valuable  could  be  done ; and  I would  have  accepted,  had 
not  the  ministry  of  finance  at  this  juncture  interposed  with 
its  veto.  It  replied  that  the  exchequer  could  not  grant  the 
three  or  four  thousand  pounds  which  would  be  required  for 
the  expedition.  Since  that  time  Russia  has  taken  no  part 
in  the  exploration  of  the  arctic  seas.  The  land  which  we 
distinguished  through  the  subpolar  mists  was  discovered  by 
Payer  and  Weyprecht,  and  the  archipelagoes  which  must 
exist  to  the  northeast  of  Ndvaya  Zemlya — I am  even  more 
firmly  persuaded  of  it  now  than  I was  then  — remain  un- 
discovered. 

Instead  of  joining  an  arctic  expedition,  I was  sent  out  by 
the  Geographical  Society  for  a modest  tour  in  Finland  and 
Sweden,  to  explore  the  glacial  deposits  ; and  that  journey 
drifted  me  in  a quite  different  direction. 

The  Russian  Academy  of  Sciences  sent  out  that  summer 
two  of  its  members  — the  old  geologist  General  Helmer- 
sen  and  Frederick  Schmidt,  the  indefatigable  explorer  of 
Siberia  — to  study  the  structure  of  those  long  ridges  of  drift 
which  are  known  as  asar  in  Sweden  and  Finland,  and  as 
eskers,  kames,  and  so  on,  in  the  British  Isles.  The  Geo- 
graphical Society  sent  me  to  Finland  for  the  same  purpose. 
We  visited,  all  three,  the  beautiful  ridge  of  Pungaharju 
and  then  separated.  I worked  hard  during  the  summer. 
I traveled  a great  deal  in  Finland,  and  crossed  over  to 
Sweden,  where  I spent  many  happy  hours  in  the  company 
of  A.  Nordenskjold.  As  early  as  then  — 1871  — he  men- 
tioned to  me  his  schemes  for  reaching  the  mouths  of  the 
Siberian  rivers,  and  even  the  Behring  Strait,  by  the  north- 
ern route.  Returning  to  Finland  I continued  my  re- 
searches till  late  in  the  autumn,  and  collected  a mass  of 
most  interesting  observations  relative  to  the  glaciation  of 


GEOGRAPHICAL  PROJECTS 


235 


the  country.  But  I also  thought  a great  deal  during  this 
journey  about  social  matters,  and  these  thoughts  had  a 
decisive  influence  upon  my  subsequent  development. 

All  sorts  of  valuable  materials  relative  to  the  geography 
of  Russia  passed  through  my  hands  in  the  Geographical 
Society,  and  the  idea  gradually  came  to  me  of  writing  an 
exhaustive  physical  geography  of  that  immense  part  of  the 
world.  My  intention  was  to  give  a thorough  geographical 
description  of  the  country,  basing  it  upon  the  main  lines 
of  the  surface  structure,  which  I began  to  disentangle  for 
European  Russia ; and  to  sketch,  in  that  description,  the 
different  forms  of  economic  life  which  ought  to  prevail  in 
different  physical  regions.  Take,  for  instance,  the  wide 
prairies  of  Southern  Russia,  so  often  visited  by  droughts 
and  failure  of  crops.  These  droughts  and  failures  must  not 
be  treated  as  accidental  calamities : they  are  as  much  a 
natural  feature  of  that  region  as  its  position  on  a southern 
slope,  its  fertility,  and  the  rest ; and  the  whole  of  the 
economic  life  of  the  southern  prairies  ought  to  be  organized 
in  prevision  of  the  unavoidable  recurrence  of  periodical 
droughts.  Each  region  of  the  Russian  Empire  ought  to  be 
treated  in  the  same  scientific  way,  just  as  Karl  Ritter  has 
treated  parts  of  Asia  in  his  beautiful  monographs. 

But  such  a work  would  have  required  plenty  of  time  and 
full  freedom  for  the  writer,  and  I often  thought  how  help- 
ful to  this  end  it  would  be  were  I to  occupy  some  day  the 
position  of  secretary  to  the  Geographical  Society.  Now,  in 
the  autumn  of  1871,  as  I was  working  in  Finland,  slowly 
moving  on  foot  toward  the  seacoast  along  the  newly  built 
railway,  and  closely  watching  the  spot  Avhere  the  first 
unmistakable  traces  of  the  former  extension  of  the  post- 
glacial sea  would  appear,  I received  a telegram  from  the 
Geographical  Society : “ The  council  begs  you  to  accept 
the  position  of  secretary  to  the  Society.”  At  the  same  time 


?36 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


the  outgoing  secretary  strongly  urged  me  to  accept  the  pro* 
posal. 

My  hopes  were  realized.  But  in  the  meantime  other 
thoughts  and  other  longings  had  pervaded  my  mind.  I 
seriously  thought  over  the  reply,  and  wired,  “ Most  cordial 
thanks,  but  cannot  accept.” 


m 


It  often  happens  that  men  pull  in  a certain  political, 
Bocial,  or  familiar  harness  simply  because  they  never  havs ! 
time  to  ask  themselves  whether  the  position  they  stand  in 
and  the  work  they  accomplish  are  right;  whether  their 
occupations  really  suit  their  inner  desires  and  capacities,  and 
give  them  the  satisfaction  which  every  one  has  the  right  to 
expect  from  his  work.  Active  men  are  especially  liable  to 
find  themselves  in  such  a position.  Every  day  brings  with 
it  a fresh  batch  of  work,  and  a man  throws  himself  into 
his  bed  late  at  night  without  having  completed  what  he 
had  expected  to  do ; then  in  the  morning  he  hurries  to  the 
unfinished  task  of  the  previous  day.  Life  goes,  and  there 
is  no  time  left  to  think,  no  time  to  consider  the  direction 
that  one’s  life  is  taking.  So  it  was  with  me. 

But  now,  during  my  journey  in  Finland,  I had  leisure. 
When  I was  crossing  in  a Finnish  two-wheeled  karria  some 
plain  which  offered  no  interest  to  the  geologist,  or  when  I 
was  walking,  hammer  on  shoulder,  from  one  gravel-pit  to 
another,  I could  think ; and  amidst  the  undoubtedly  inter- 
esting geological  work  I was  carrying  on,  one  idea,  which 
appealed  far  more  strongly  to  my  inner  self  than  geology, 
persistently  worked  in  my  mind. 

I saw  what  an  immense  amount  of  labor  the  Finnish 
peasant  spends  in  clearing  the  land  and  in  breaking  up 
the  hard  boulder-clay,  and  I said  to  myself : “ I will  write  the 
physical  geography  of  this  part  of  Russia,  and  tell  the 
peasant  the  best  means  of  cultivating  this  soil.  Here  an 
American  stump-extractor  would  be  invaluable;  there  cep- 
tain  methods  of  manuring  would  be  indicated  by  science 


238 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


. . . But  what  is  the  use  of  talking  to  this  peasant  about 
American  machines,  when  he  has  barely  enough  bread  to 
live  upon  from  one  crop  to  the  next ; when  the  rent  which  he 
has  to  pay  for  that  boulder-clay  grows  heavier  and  heavier 
in  proportion  to  his  success  in  improving  the  soil  ? He 
gnaws  at  his  hard-as-a-stone  rye-flour  cake  which  he  bakes 
twice  a year ; he  has  with  it  a morsel  of  fearfully  salted  cod 
and  a drink  of  skimmed  milk.  How  dare  I talk  to  him  of 
American  machines,  when  all  that  he  can  raise  must  be  sold 
to  pay  rent  and  taxes  ? He  needs  me  to  live  with  him,  to 
help  him  to  become  the  owner  or  the  free  occupier  of  that 
land.  Then  he  will  read  books  with  profit,  hut  not  now.” 

And  my  thoughts  wandered  from  Finland  to  our  Hikols- 
koye  peasants,  whom  I had  lately  seen.  How  they  are 
free,  and  they  value  freedom  very  much.  But  they  have 
no  meadows.  In  one  way  or  another,  the  landlords  have 
got  all  the  meadows  for  themselves.  When  I was  a child, 
the  Savokhins  used  to  send  out  six  horses  for  night  pasture, 
the  Tolkachoffs  had  seven.  How,  these  families  have  only 
three  horses  each  ; other  families,  which  formerly  had  three 
horses,  have  only  one,  or  none.  What  can  be  done  with 
one  miserable  horse  ? Ho  meadows,  no  horses,  no  manure  ! 
How  can  I talk  to  them  of  grass-sowing  ? They  are  already 
ruined,  — poor  as  Lazarus,  — and  in  a few  years  they  will 
be  made  still  poorer  by  a foolish  taxation.  How  happy 
they  were  when  I told  them  that  my  father  gave  them 
permission  to  mow  the  grass  in  the  small  open  spaces  in  his 
Kostino  forest ! “ Your  Hilcolskoye  peasants  are  ferocious 

for  work,”  — that  is  the  common  saying  about  them  in  our 
neighborhood ; but  the  arable  land,  which  our  stepmother 
has  taken  out  of  their  allotments  in  virtue  of  the  “ law  of 
minimum,”  — that  diabolic  clause  introduced  by  the  serf- 
owners  when  they  were  allowed  to  revise  the  emancipation 
law,  — is  now  a forest  of  thistles,  and  the  “ferocious” 
workers  are  not  allowed  to  till  it.  And  the  same  sort  of 


JOTS  OF  SCIENTIFIC  LIFE 


239 


thing  goes  on  throughout  all  Russia.  Even  at  that  time 
it  was  evident,  and  official  commissioners  gave  warning  of 
it,  that  the  first  serious  failure  of  crops  in  Middle  Russia 
would  result  in  a terrible  famine,  — and  famine  came,  in 
1876,  in  1884,  in  1891,  in  1895,  and  again  in  1898. 

Science  is  an  excellent  thing.  I knew  its  joys  and  valued 
them,  — perhaps  more  than  many  of  my  colleagues  did. 
Even  now,  as  I was  looking  on  the  lakes  and  the  hillocks 
of  Finland,  new  and  beautiful  generalizations  arose  before 
my  eyes.  I saw  in  a remote  past,  at  the  very  dawn  of 
mankind,  the  ice  accumulating  from  year  to  year  in  the 
northern  archipelagoes,  over  Scandinavia  and  Finland.  An 
immense  growth  of  ice  invaded  the  north  of  Europe  and 
slowly  spread  as  far  as  its  middle  portions.  Life  dwindled 
in  that  part  of  the  northern  hemisphere,  and,  wretchedly 
poor,  uncertain,  it  fled  further  and  further  south  before 
the  icy  breath  which  came  from  that  immense  frozen  mass. 
Man  — miserable,  weak,  ignorant  — had  every  difficulty  in 
maintaining  a precarious  existence.  Ages  passed  away,  till 
the  melting  of  the  ice  began,  and  with  it  came  the  lake 
period,  when  countless  lakes  were  formed  in  the  cavities, 
and  a wretched  subpolar  vegetation  began  timidly  to  invade 
the  unfathomable  marshes  with  which  every  lake  was  sur- 
rounded. Another  series  of  ages  passed  before  an  extremely 
slow  process  of  drying  up  set  in,  and  vegetation  began 
its  slow  invasion  from  the  south.  And  now  we  are  fully 
in  the  period  of  a rapid  desiccation,  accompanied  by  the 
formation  of  dry  prairies  and  steppes,  and  man  lias  to 
find  out  the  means  to  put  a check  to  that  desiccation  to 
which  Central  Asia  already  has  fallen  a victim,  and  which 
menaces  Southeastern  Europe. 

Belief  in  an  ice-cap  reaching  Middle  Europe  was  at  that 
time  rank  heresy ; but  before  my  eyes  a grand  picture  was 
rising,  and  I wanted  to  draw  it,  with  the  thousands  of 
details  I saw  in  it ; to  use  it  as  a key  to  the  present  distri- 


240 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


bution  of  floras  and  faunas ; to  open  new  horizons  for  geology 
and  physical  geography. 

But  what  right  had  I to  these  highest  joys,  when  all 
around  me  was  nothing  but  misery  and  struggle  for  a mouldy 
bit  of  bread ; when  whatsoever  I should  spend  to  enable 
me  to  live  in  that  world  of  higher  emotions  must  needs  be 
taken  from  the  very  mouths  of  those  who  grew  the  wheat 
and  had  not  bread  enough  for  their  children  ? From  some- 
body’s mouth  it  must  be  taken,  because  the  aggregate  pro- 
duction of  mankind  remains  still  so  low. 

Knowledge  is  an  immense  power.  Man  must  know. 
But  we  already  know  much  ! What  if  that  knowledge  — 
and  only  that  — should  become  the  possession  of  all  ? 
Would  not  science  itself  progress  in  leaps,  and  cause  man- 
kind to  make  strides  in  production,  invention,  and  social 
creation,  of  which  we  are  hardly  in  a condition  now  to 
measure  the  speed  ? 

The  masses  want  to  know : they  are  willing  to  learn ; 
they  can  learn.  There,  on  the  crest  of  that  immense 
moraine  which  runs  between  the  lakes,  as  if  giants  had 
heaped  it  up  in  a hurry  to  connect  the  two  shores,  there 
stands  a Finnish  peasant  plunged  in  contemplation  of  the 
beautiful  lakes,  studded  with  islands,  which  lie  before  him. 
ISTot  one  of  these  peasants,  poor  and  downtrodden  though 
they  may  be,  will  pass  this  spot  without  stopping  to  admire 
the  scene.  Or  there,  on  the  shore  of  a lake,  stands  an- 
other peasant,  and  sings  something  so  beautiful  that  the 
best  musician  would  envy  him  his  melody,  for  its  feeling 
and  its  meditative  power.  Both  deeply  feel,  both  meditate, 
both  think ; they  are  ready  to  widen  their  knowledge,  — 
only  give  it  to  them,  only  give  them  the  means  of  getting 
leisure. 

This  is  the  direction  in  which,  and  these  are  the  kind  of 
people  for  whom,  I must  work.  All  those  sonorous  phrases 


DIFFUSION  OF  KNOWLEDGE 


241 


tbout  making  mankind  progress,  while  at  the  same  time 
the  progress-makers  stand  aloof  from  those  whom  they  pre- 
tend to  push  onwards,  are  mere  sophisms  made  up  by 
minds  anxious  to  shake  off  a fretting  contradiction. 

So  I sent  my  negative  reply  to  the  Geographical  So* ri 
ciety. 


IV 


St.  Petersburg  had  changed  greatly  from  what  it  was 
when  I left  it  in  1862.  “ Oh,  yes,  you  knew  the  St. 

Petersburg  of  Chernyshevsky,”  the  poet  Maikoff  remarked 
to  me  once.  True,  I knew  the  St.  Petersburg  of  which 
Chernyshevsky  was  the  favorite.  But  how  shall  I de- 
scribe the  city  which  I found  on  my  return  ? Perhaps  as 
the  St.  Petersburg  of  the  cafes  chantants,  of  the  music 
halls,  if  the  words  “ all  St.  Petersburg  ” ought  really  to 
mean  the  upper  circles  of  society  which  took  their  keynote 
from  the  court. 

At  the  court,  and  in  its  circles,  liberal  ideas  were  in 
sorely  bad  repute.  All  prominent  men  of  the  sixties,  even 
such  moderates  as  Count  Nicholas  Muravidff  and  Nicholas 
Milutin,  were  treated  as  suspects.  Only  Dmitri  Milutin, 
the  minister  of  war,  was  kept  by  Alexander  II.  at  his 
post,  because  the  reform  which  he  had  to  accomplish  in 
the  army  required  many  years  for  its  realization.  All  other 
active  men  of  the  reform  period  had  been  brushed  aside. 

I spoke  once  with  a high  dignitary  of  the  ministry  for 
foreign  affairs.  He  sharply  criticised  another  high  func- 
tionary, and  I remarked  in  the  latter’s  defense,  “ Still, 
there  is  this  to  be  said  for  him,  that  he  never  accepted 
service  under  Nicholas  I.”  “ And  now  he  is  in  service 

under  the  reign  of  Shuvdloff  and  Trdpoff!”  was  the  reply, 
which  so  correctly  described  the  situation  that  I could  say 
nothing  more. 

General  Shuvaloff,  the  chief  of  the  state  police,  and  Gen- 
eral Trepoff,  the  chief  of  the  St.  Petersburg  police,  were 
indeed  the  real  rulers  of  Russia.  Alexander  II.  was  their 


OFFICIAL  ST.  PETERSBURG 


243 


executive,  their  tool.  And  they  ruled  by  fear.  Trdpoff 
had  so  frightened  AJexander  by  the  spectre  of  a revolution 
•which  was  going  to  break  out  at  St.  Petersburg,  that  if  the 
omnipotent  chief  of  the  police  was  a few  minutes  late  in 
appearing  with  his  daily  report  at  the  palace,  the  Emperor 
would  ask,  “ Is  everything  quiet  at  St.  Petersburg  ? ” 

Shortly  after  Alexander  had  given  an  “ entire  dismissal  ” 
to  Princess  X.,  he  conceived  a warm  friendship  for  General 
Eleury,  the  aide-de-camp  of  Napoleon  III.,  that  sinister 
man  who  was  the  soul  of  the  coup  d'etat  of  December  2, 
1852.  They  were  continually  seen  together,  and  Fleury 
once  informed  the  Parisians  of  the  great  honor  which  was 
bestowed  upon  him  by  the  Russian  Tsar.  As  the  latter 
was  riding  along  the  Nevsky  Prospekt,  he  saw  Fleury,  and 
asked  him  to  mount  into  his  carriage,  an  egoi’ste,  which  had 
a seat  only  twelve  inches  wide,  for  a single  person  ; and 
the  French  general  recounted  at  length  how  the  Tsar  and 
he,  holding  fast  to  each  other,  had  to  leave  half  of  their 
bodies  hanging  in  the  air  on  account  of  the  narrowness  of 
the  seat.  It  is  enough  to  name  this  new  friend,  fresh  from 
Compiegne,  to  suggest  what  the  friendship  meant. 

Shuvaloff  took  every  advantage  of  the  present  state  of 
mind  of  his  master.  He  prepared  one  reactionary  measure 
after  another,  and  when  Alexander  showed  reluctance  to 
sign  any  one  of  them,  Shuvaloff  would  speak  of  the  coming 
revolution  and  the  fate  of  Louis  XVI.,  and,  “for  the  sal- 
vation of  the  dynasty,”  would  implore  him  to  sign  the  new 
additions  to  the  laws  of  repression.  For  all  that,  sadness 
and  remorse  would  from  time  to  time  besiege  Alexander. 
He  would  fall  into  a gloomy  melancholy,  and  speak  in  a sad 
tone  of  the  brilliant  beginning  of  his  reign,  and  of  the  re- 
actionary character  which  it  was  taking.  Then  Shuvaloff 
would  organize  a bear  hunt.  Hunters,  merry  courtiers,  and 
carriages  full  of  ballet  girls  would  go  to  the  forests  of  Ndv- 
gorod.  A couple  of  bears  would  be  killed  by  Alexander  II., 


244 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


■who  was  a good  shot,  and  used  to  let  the  animals  approach 
within  a few  yards  of  his  rifle ; and  there,  in  the  excite- 
ment of  the  hunting  festivities,  Shuvaloff  would  obtain  his 
master’s  signature  to  any  scheme  of  repression  or  robbery  in 
the  interest  of  his  clients,  which  he  had  concocted. 

Alexander  II.  certainly  was  not  a rank-and-file  man,  but 
two  different  men  lived  in  him,  both  strongly  developed, 
struggling  with  each  other ; and  this  inner  struggle  became 
more  and  more  violent  as  he  advanced  in  age.  He  could 
be  charming  in  his  behavior,  and  the  next  moment  dis- 
play sheer  brutality.  He  was  possessed  of  a calm,  reasoned 
courage  in  the  face  of  a real  danger,  but  he  lived  in  con- 
stant fear  of  dangers  which  existed  in  his  brain  only.  He 
assuredly  was  not  a coward  ; he  would  meet  a bear  face  to 
face ; on  one  occasion,  when  the  animal  was  not  killed  out- 
right by  his  first  bullet,  and  the  man  who  stood  behind  him 
with  a lance,  rushing  forward,  was  knocked  down  by  the 
bear,  the  Tsar  came  to  his  rescue,  and  killed  the  bear  close 
to  the  muzzle  of  his  gun  (I  know  this  from  the  man  him- 
self) ; yet  he  was  haunted  all  his  life  by  the  fears  of  his 
own  imagination  and  of  an  uneasy  conscience.  He  was 
very  kind  in  his  manner  toward  his  friends,  but  that  kind- 
ness existed  side  by  side  with  the  terrible  cold-blooded 
cruelty  — a seventeenth  century  cruelty  — which  he  dis- 
played in  crushing  the  Polish  insurrection,  and  later  on  in 
1880,  when  similar  measures  were  taken  to  put  down  the 
revolt  of  the  Russian  youth ; a cruelty  of  which  no  one 
would  have  thought  him  capable.  He  thus  lived  a double 
life,  and  at  the  period  of  which  I am  speaking,  he  merrily 
signed  the  most  reactionary  decrees,  and  afterward  became 
despondent  about  them.  Toward  the  end  of  his  life  this 
inner  struggle,  as  will  be  seen  later  on,  became  still  stronger, 
and  assumed  an  almost  tragical  character. 

In  1872  Shuvaloff  was  nominated  ambassador  to  England, 
but  his  friend  General  Potapoff  continued  the  same  policy 


CORRUPTION  EXPOSED 


245 


till  the  beginning  of  the  Turkish  war  in  1877.  During  all 
this  time,  the  most  scandalous  plundering  of  the  state  ex- 
chequer, as  also  of  the  crown  lands,  the  estates  confiscated 
in  Lithuania  after  the  insurrection,  the  Bashkir  lands  in 
Orenburg,  and  so  on,  was  proceeding  on  a grand  scale. 
Several  such  affairs  were  subsequently  brought  to  light  and 
judged  publicly  by  the  Senate  acting  as  a high  court  of  jus- 
tice, after  Potapoff,  who  became  insane,  and  Trepoff  had 
been  dismissed,  and  their  rivals  at  the  palace  wanted  to  show 
them  to  Alexander  II.  in  their  true  light.  In  one  of  these 
judicial  inquiries  it  came  out  that  a friend  of  Potapoff  had 
most  shamelessly  robbed  the  peasants  of  a Lithuanian  estate 
of  their  lands,  and  afterward,  empowered  by  his  friends  at 
the  ministry  of  the  interior,  he  had  caused  the  peasants, 
who  sought  redress,  to  be  imprisoned,  subjected  to  wholesale 
flogging,  and  shot  down  by  the  troops.  This  was  one  of 
the  most  revolting  stories  of  the  kind  even  in  the  annals  of 
Russia,  which  teem  with  similar  robberies  up  to  the  present 
time.  It  was  only  after  Vera  Zasulich  had  shot  at  Trdpoff 
and  wounded  him  (to  avenge  his  having  ordered  one  of  the 
political  prisoners  to  be  flogged  in  prison)  that  the  thefts  of 
Potapoff  and  his  clients  became  widely  known  and  he  was 
dismissed.  Thinking  that  he  was  going  to  die,  Trepoff 
wrote  his  will,  from  which  it  became  known  that  this  man, 
who  made  the  Tsar  believe  that  he  died  poor,  even  though 
he  had  occupied  for  years  the  lucrative  post  of  chief  of  the 
St.  Petersburg  police,  left  in  reality  to  his  heirs  a consid- 
erable fortune.  Some  courtiers  reported  it  to  Alexander  II. 
Trepoff  lost  his  credit,  and  it  was  then  that  a few  of  the 
robberies  of  the  Shuvfiloff-Potapoff-and-Trdpoff  party  were 
brought  before  the  Senate. 

The  pillage  which  went  on  in  all  the  ministries,  especially 
in  connection  with  the  railways  and  all  sorts  of  industrial 
enterprises,  was  really  enormous.  Immense  fortunes  were 


246 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


made  at  that  time.  The  navy,  as  Alexander  II.  himself 
said  to  one  of  his  sons,  was  “ in  the  pockets  of  So-and-So.” 
The  cost  of  the  railways,  guaranteed  by  the  state,  was 
simply  fabulous.  As  to  commercial  enterprises,  it  was 
openly  known  that  none  could  be  launched  unless  a specified 
percentage  of  the  dividends  was  promised  to  different  func- 
tionaries in  the  several  ministries.  A friend  of  mine,  who 
intended  to  start  some  enterprise  at  St.  Petersburg,  was 
frankly  told  at  the  ministry  of  the  interior  that  he  would 
have  to  pay  twenty-five  per  cent,  of  the  net  profits  to  a 
certain  person,  fifteen  per  cent,  to  one  man  at  the  ministry 
of  finances,  ten  per  cent,  to  another  man  in  the  same  min- 
istry, and  five  per  cent,  to  a fourth  person.  The  bargains 
were  made  without  concealment,  and  Alexander  II.  knew 
it.  His  own  remarks,  written  on  the  reports  of  the  comp- 
troller-general, bear  testimony  to  this.  But  he  saw  in  the 
thieves  his  protectors  from  the  revolution,  and  kept  them 
until  their  robberies  became  an  open  scandal. 

The  young  grand  dukes,  with  the  exception  of  the  heir 
apparent,  afterward  Alexander  III.,  who  always  was  a good 
and  thrifty  paterfamilias,  followed  the  example  of  the 
head  of  the  family.  The  orgies  which  one  of  them  used 
to  arrange  in  a small  restaurant  on  the  Nevsky  Prospekt 
were  so  degradingly  notorious  that  one  night  the  chief  of 
the  police  had  to  interfere,  and  warned  the  owner  of  the 
restaurant  that  he  would  be  marched  to  Siberia  if  he  ever 
again  let  his  “ grand  duke’s  room  ” to  the  grand  duke. 
“ Imagine  my  perplexity,”  this  man  said  to  me,  on  one 
occasion,  when  he  was  showing  me  that  room,  the  walls  and 
ceiling  of  which  were  upholstered  with  thick  satin  cushions. 
“ On  the  one  side  I had  to  offend  a member  of  the  imperial 
family,  who  could  do  with  me  what  he  liked,  and  on  the 
other  side  General  Trdpoff  menaced  me  with  Siberia!  Of 
course,  I obeyed  the  general ; he  is,  as  you  know,  omnip- 
otent now.”  Another  grand  duke  became  conspicuous  for 


EDUCATION  RESTRICTED 


241 


ways  belonging  to  the  domain  of  psychopathy ; and  a third 
was  exiled  to  Turkestan,  after  he  had  stolen  the  diamondi 
of  his  mother. 

The  Empress  Marie  Alex&ndrovna,  abandoned  by  her 
husband,  and  probably  horrified  at  the  turn  which  court 
life  was  taking,  became  more  and  more  a devotee,  and  soon 
she  was  entirely  in  the  hands  of  the  palace  priest,  a repre- 
sentative of  a quite  new  type  in  the  Russian  Church,  — 
the  Jesuitic.  This  new  genus  of  well-combed,  depraved, 
and  Jesuitic  clergy  made  rapid  progress  at  that  time  ; al- 
ready they  were  working  hard  and  with  success  to  become 
a power  in  the  state,  and  to  lay  hands  on  the  schools. 

It  has  been  proved  over  and  over  again  that  the  village 
clergy  in  Russia  are  so  much  taken  up  by  their  functions 
— performing  baptisms  and  marriages,  administering  com- 
munion to  the  dying,  and  so  on  — that  they  cannot  pay 
due  attention  to  the  schools ; even  when  the  priest  is  paid 
for  giving  the  Scripture  lesson  at  a village  school,  he  usu- 
ally passes  that  lesson  to  some  one  else,  as  he  has  no  time 
to  attend  to  it  himself.  Nevertheless,  the  higher  clergy, 
exploiting  the  hatred  of  Alexander  II.  toward  the  so-called 
revolutionary  spirit,  began  their  campaign  for  laying  their 
hands  upon  the  schools.  “ No  schools  unless  clerical  ones  ” 
became  their  motto.  All  Russia  wanted  education,  but 
even  the  ridiculously  small  sum  of  four  million  dollars  in- 
cluded every  year  in  the  state  budget  for  primary  schools 
used  not  to  be  spent  by  the  ministry  of  public  instruction, 
while  nearly  as  much  was  given  to  the  Synod  as  an  aid  for 
establishing  schools  under  the  village  clergy,  — schools 
most  of  which  existed,  and  now  exist,  on  paper  only. 

All  Russia  wanted  technical  education,  but  the  ministry 
opened  only  classical  gymnasia,  because  formidable  courses 
of  Latin  and  Greek  were  considered  the  best  means  of  pre- 
venting the  pupils  from  reading  and  thinking.  In  these 
gymnasia,  only  two  or  three  per  cent,  of  the  pupils  suo 


248 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


ceeded  in  completing  an  eight  years’  course,  — all  boyi 
promising  to  become  something  and  to  show  some  independ- 
ence of  thought  being  carefully  sifted  out  before  they  could 
reach  the  last  form ; and  all  sorts  of  measures  were  taken 
to  reduce  the  number  of  pupils.  Education  was  considered 
as  a sort  of  luxury,  for  the  few  only.  At  the  same  time 
the  ministry  of  education  was  engaged  in  a continuous, 
passionate  struggle  against  all  private  persons  and  all  insti- 
tutions— district  and  county  councils,  municipalities,  and 
the  like  — which  endeavored  to  open  teachers’  seminaries 
or  technical  schools,  or  even  simple  primary  schools.  Tech- 
nical education  — in  a country  which  was  so  much  in  want 
of  engineers,  educated  agriculturists,  and  geologists  — was 
treated  as  equivalent  to  revolutionism.  It  was  prohibited, 
prosecuted ; so  that  up  to  the  present  time,  every  autumn, 
something  like  two  or  three  thousand  young  men  are  refused 
admission  to  the  higher  technical  schools  from  mere  lack  of 
vacancies.  A feeling  of  despair  took  possession  of  all  those 
who  wished  to  do  anything  useful  in  public  life  ; while  the 
peasantry  were  ruined  at  an  appalling  rate  by  over-taxation, 
and  by  “beating  out”  of  them  the  arrears  of  the  taxes  by 
means  of  semi-military  executions,  which  ruined  them  for- 
ever. Only  those  governors  of  the  provinces  were  in  favor 
at  the  capital  who  managed  to  beat  out  the  taxes  in  the 
most  severe  way. 

Such  was  the  official  St.  Petersburg.  Such  was  the  in- 
fluence it  exercised  upon  Russia. 


V 


When  we  were  leaving  Siberia,  we  often  talked,  my  bro 
ther  and  I,  of  the  intellectual  life  which  we  should  find 
at  St.  Petersburg,  and  of  the  interesting  acquaintances  we 
should  make  in  the  literary  circles.  We  made  such  ac- 
quaintances, indeed,  both  among  the  radicals  and  among  the 
moderate  Slavophiles ; but  I must  confess  that  they  were 
rather  disappointing.  We  found  plenty  of  excellent  men, 
— Eussia  is  full  of  excellent  men,  — but  they  did  not 
quite  correspond  to  our  ideal  of  political  writers.  The  best 
writers  — Chernyshevsky,  Mikhdiloff,  Lavrdff  — were  in 
exile,  or  were  kept  in  the  fortress  of  St.  Peter  and  St.  Paul, 
like  Pisareff.  Others,  taking  a gloomy  view  of  the  situa- 
tion, had  changed  their  ideas,  and  were  now  leaning  toward 
a sort  of  paternal  absolutism ; while  the  greater  number, 
though  holding  still  to  their  beliefs,  had  become  so  cautious 
in  expressing  them  that  their  prudence  was  almost  equal 
to  desertion. 

At  the  height  of  the  reform  period  nearly  every  one  in 
the  advanced  literary  circles  had  had  some  relations  either 
with  Herzen  or  with  Turgueneff  and  his  friends,  or  with 
the  Great  Eussian  or  the  Land  and  Freedom  secret  socie- 
ties which  had  had  at  that  period  an  ephemeral  existence. 
How,  these  same  men  were  only  the  more  anxious  to  bury 
their  former  sympathies  as  deep  as  possible,  so  as  to  appear 
above  political  suspicion. 

One  or  two  of  the  liberal  reviews  which  were  tolerated 
at  that  time,  owing  chiefly  to  the  superior  diplomatic  talents 
of  their  editors,  contained  excellent  material,  showing  the 
ever  growing  misery  and  the  desperate  conditions  of  the 


250 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


great  mass  of  the  peasants,  and  making  clear  enough  the 
obstacles  that  were  put  in  the  way  of  every  progressive 
worker.  The  amount  of  such  facts  was  enough  to  drive 
one  to  despair.  But  no  one  dared  to  suggest  any  remedy, 
or  to  hint  at  any  field  of  action,  at  any  outcome  from  a 
position  which  was  represented  as  hopeless.  Some  writers 
still  cherished  the  hope  that  Alexander  II.  would  once 
more  assume  the  character  of  reformer;  but  with  the  major- 
ity the  fear  of  seeing  their  reviews  suppressed,  and  both 
editors  and  contributors  marched  “ to  some  more  or  less 
remote  part  of  the  empire,”  dominated  all  other  feelings. 
Fear  and  hope  equally  paralyzed  them. 

The  more  radical  they  had  been  ten  years  before,  the 
greater  were  their  fears.  My  brother  and  I were  very  well 
received  in  one  or  two  literary  circles,  and  we  went  occa- 
sionally to  their  friendly  gatherings;  but  the  moment  the 
conversation  began  to  lose  its  frivolous  character,  or  my 
brother,  who  had  a great  talent  for  raising  serious  ques- 
tions, directed  it  toward  home  affairs,  or  toward  the  state  of 
France,  where  Napoleon  III.  was  hastening  to  his  fall  in 
1870,  some  sort  of  interruption  was  sure  to  occur.  “ What 
do  you  think,  gentlemen,  of  the  latest  performance  of  ‘ La 
Belle  Helene  ’ ? ” or  “ What  is  your  opinion  of  that  cured 
fish  ? ” was  loudly  asked  by  one  of  the  elder  guests,  — 
and  the  conversation  was  brought  to  an  end. 

Outside  the  literary  circles,  things  were  even  worse.  In 
the  sixties,  Russia,  and  especially  St.  Petersburg,  was  full 
of  men  of  advanced  opinions,  who  seemed  ready  at  that 
time  to  make  any  sacrifices  for  their  ideas.  “ What  has 
become  of  them  ? ” I asked  myself.  I looked  up  some  of 
them  ; but,  “ Prudence,  young  man  ! ” was  all  they  had  to 
6ay.  “ Iron  is  stronger  than  straw,”  or  “ One  cannot  break 
a stone  wall  with  his  forehead,”  and  similar  proverbs,  un- 
fortunately too  numerous  in  the  Russian  language,  consti- 
tuted now  their  code  of  practical  philosophy.  “We  have 


EFFECTS  OF  OPPRESSION 


251 


done  something  in  our  life  : ask  no  more  from  us ; ” or 
“ Have  patience : this  sort  of  thing  will  not  last,”  they  told 
ns,  while  we,  the  youth,  were  ready  to  resume  the  struggle, 
to  act,  to  risk,  to  sacrifice  everything,  if  necessary,  and  only 
asked  them  to  give  us  advice,  some  guidance,  and  some  intel- 
lectual support. 

Turgu^neff  has  depicted  in  “ Smoke  ” some  of  the  ex-re- 
formers from  the  upper  layers  of  society,  and  his  picture  is 
disheartening.  But  it  is  especially  in  the  heart-rending  novels 
and  sketches  of  Madame  Kohandvsky,  who  wrote  under  the 
pseudonym  of  “V.  Krestdvskiy  ” (she  must  not  be  con- 
founded with  another  novel-writer,  Vsevolod  Krestdvskiy), 
that  one  can  follow  the  many  aspects  which  the  degrada- 
tion of  the  “ liberals  of  the  sixties  ” took  at  that  time. 
“ The  joy  of  living”  — perhaps  the  joy  of  having  survived 
— became  their  goddess,  as  soon  as  the  nameless  crowd 
which  ten  years  before  made  the  force  of  the  reform  move- 
ment refused  to  hear  any  more  of  “ all  that  sentimentalism.” 
They  hastened  to  enjoy  the  riches  which  poured  into  the 
hands  of  “ practical  ” men. 

Many  new  ways  to  fortune  had  been  opened  since  serf- 
dom had  been  abolished,  and  the  crowd  rushed  with  eager- 
ness into  these  channels.  Railways  were  feverishly  built 
in  Russia ; to  the  lately  opened  private  banks  the  landlords 
went  in  numbers  to  mortgage  their  estates ; the  newly 
established  private  notaries  and  lawyers  at  the  courts  were 
in  possession  of  large  incomes  ; the  shareholders’  companies 
multiplied  with  an  appalling  rapidity  and  the  promoters 
flourished.  A class  of  men  who  formerly  would  have  lived 
in  the  country  on  the  modest  income  of  a small  estate  cul- 
tivated by  a hundred  serfs,  or  on  the  still  more  modest 
salary  of  a functionary  in  a law  court,  now  made  fortunes, 
or  had  such  yearly  incomes  as  in  the  times  of  serfdom  were 
possible  only  for  the  land  magnates. 

The  very  tastes  of  “ society  ” sunk  lower  and  lower.  The 


252 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


Italian  opera,  formerly  a forum  for  radical  demonstrations, 
was  now  deserted ; the  Russian  opera,  timidly  asserting  the 
rights  of  its  great  composers,  was  frequented  by  a few  en- 
thusiasts  only.  Both  were  found  “ tedious,”  and  the  cream 
of  St.  Petersburg  society  crowded  to  a vulgar  theatre  where 
the  second-rate  stars  of  the  Paris  small  theatres  won  easy 
laurels  from  their  Horse  Guard  admirers,  or  went  to  see  “ La 
Belle  Helene,”  which  was  played  on  the  Russian  stage,  while 
our  great  dramatists  were  forgotten.  Offenbach’s  music 
reigned  supreme. 

It  must  be  said  that  the  political  atmosphere  was  such 
that  the  best  men  had  reasons,  or  had  at  least  weighty  ex- 
cuses, for  keeping  quiet.  After  Karakozoff  had  shot  at 
Alexander  II.  in  April,  1866,  the  state  police  had  become 
omnipotent.  Every  one  suspected  of  “ radicalism,”  no 
matter  what  he  had  done  or  what  he  had  not  done,  had  to 
live  under  the  fear  of  being  arrested  any  night,  for  the  sym- 
pathy he  might  have  shown  to  some  one  involved  in  this  or 
that  political  affair,  or  for  an  innocent  letter  intercepted  in 
a midnight  search,  or  simply  for  his  “ dangerous  ” opinions  ; 
and  arrest  for  political  reasons  might  mean  anything : years 
of  seclusion  in  the  fortress  of  St.  Peter  and  St.  Paul,  trans- 
portation to  Siberia,  or  even  torture  in  the  casemates  of  the 
fortress. 

This  movement  of  the  circles  of  Karakdzoff  remains  up  to 
this  date  very  imperfectly  known,  even  in  Russia.  I was 
at  that  time  in  Siberia,  and  know  of  it  only  by  hearsay.  It 
appears,  however,  that  two  different  currents  combined  in 
it.  One  of  them  was  the  beginning  of  that  great  movement 
“ toward  the  people,”  which  later  took  on  such  formidable 
dimensions ; while  the  other  current  was  mainly  political. 
Groups  of  young  men,  some  of  whom  were  on  the  road  to 
become  brilliant  university  professors,  or  men  of  mark  as 
historians  and  ethnographers,  had  come  together  about  1864, 


ATTEMPT  ON  THE  TSAR’S  LIFE 


253 


with  the  intention  of  carrying  to  the  people  education  and 
knowledge  in  spite  of  the  opposition  of  the  government. 
They  went  as  mere  artisans  to  great  industrial  towns,  and 
started  there  cooperative  associations,  as  well  as  informal 
schools,  hoping  that  by  the  exercise  of  much  tact  and  patience 
they  might  be  able  to  educate  the  people,  and  thus  to  cre- 
ate the  first  centres  from  which  better  and  higher  concep- 
tions would  gradually  radiate  amongst  the  masses.  Their- 
zeal  was  great ; considerable  fortunes  were  brought  into  the 
service  of  the  cause ; and  I am  inclined  to  think  that,  com- 
pared with  all  similar  movements  which  took  place  later  on, 
this  one  stood  perhaps  on  the  most  practical  basis.  Its 
initiators  certainly  were  very  near  to  the  working-people. 

On  the  other  side,  with  some  of  the  members  of  these 
circles  — Karakdzoff,  Ishutin,  and  their  nearest  friends  — 
the  movement  took  a political  direction.  During  the  years 
from  1862  to  1866  the  policy  of  Alexander  II.  had  assumed 
a decidedly  reactionary  character  ; he  had  surrounded  him- 
self with  men  of  the  most  reactionary  type,  taking  them  as 
his  nearest  advisers ; the  very  reforms  which  made  the  glory 
of  the  beginning  of  his  reign  were  now  wrecked  wholesale 
by  means  of  by-laws  and  ministerial  circulars ; a return  to 
manorial  justice  and  serfdom  in  a disguised  form  was  openly 
expected  in  the  old  camp ; while  no  one  could  hope  at  that 
time  that  the  main  reform — the  abolition  of  serfdom  — 
could  withstand  the  assaults  directed  against  it  from  the 
Winter  Palace  itself.  All  this  must  have  brought  Karakd- 
zoff and  his  friends  to  the  idea  that  a further  continuance  of 
Alexander  II. ’s  reign  would  be  a menace  even  to  the  little 
that  had  been  won  ; that  Russia  would  have  to  return  to 
the  horrors  of  Nicholas  I.,  if  Alexander  continued  to  rule. 
Great  hopes  were  felt  at  the  same  time  — this  is  “an  often 
repeated  story,  but  always  new  ” — as  to  the  liberal  incli- 
nations of  the  heir  to  the  throne  and  his  uncle  Constantine. 
I must  also  say  that  before  1866  such  fears  and  such  con* 


254 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


siderations  were  not  ^infrequently  expressed  in  much  higher 
circles  than  those  with  which  Karakdzoff  seems  to  have  been 
in  contact.  At  any  rate,  Karakdzoff  shot  at  Alexander  II. 
one  day,  as  he  was  coming  out  of  the  summer  garden  to  take 
his  carriage.  The  shot  missed,  and  Karakdzoff  was  arrested 
on  the  spot. 

Katkdff,  the  leader  of  the  Moscow  reactionary  party,  and 
a great  master  for  extracting  pecuniary  profits  out  of  every 
political  disturbance,  at  once  accused  of  complicity  with 
KarakozofF  all  radicals  and  liberals,  — which  was  certainly 
untrue,  — and  insinuated  in  his  paper,  making  all  Mos- 
cow believe  it,  that  Karakdzoff  was  a mere  instrument  in 
the  hands  of  the  Grand  Duke  Constantine,  the  leader  of 
the  reform  party  in  the  highest  circles.  One  can  imagine 
to  what  an  extent  the  two  rulers,  Shuvaloff  and  Trepoff, 
exploited  these  accusations,  and  the  consequent  fears  of 
Alexander  II. 

Mikhael  Muravidff,  who  had  won  during  the  Polish  in- 
surrection his  nickname  “ the  hangman,”  received  orders  to 
make  a most  searching  inquiry,  and  to  discover  by  every 
possible  means  the  plot  which  was  supposed  to  exist.  He 
made  arrests  in  all  classes  of  society,  ordered  hundreds  of 
searches,  and  boasted  that  he  “ would  find  the  means  to 
render  the  prisoners  more  talkative.”  He  certainly  was  not 
the  man  to  recoil  even  before  torture,  — and  public  opinion 
in  St.  Petersburg  was  almost  unanimous  in  saying  that 
Karakdzoff  was  tortured  to  obtain  avowals,  but  made  none. 

State  secrets  are  well  kept  in  fortresses,  especially  in  that 
huge  mass  of  stone  opposite  the  Winter  Palace,  which  has 
seen  so  many  horrors,  only  in  recent  times  disclosed  by  his- 
torians. It  still  keeps  MuravidfFs  secrets.  However,  the 
following  may  perhaps  throw  some  light  on  this  matter. 

In  1866  I was  in  Siberia.  One  of  our  Siberian  officers, 
who  traveled  from  Russia  to  Irkutsk  toward  the  end  of  that 
year,  met  at  a post  station  two  gendarmes.  They  had  ao» 


TORTURE  OF  KARAKOZOFF 


255 


•ompanied  to  Siberia  a functionary  exiled  for  theft,  and 
were  now  returning  home.  Our  Irkutsk  officer,  who  was  a 
very  amiable  man,  finding  the  gendarmes  at  the  tea  table  on 
a cold  winter  night,  joined  them  and  chatted  with  them, 
while  the  horses  were  being  changed.  One  of  the  men 
knew  Karakdzoff. 

“He  was  cunning,  he  was, ” he  said.  “When  he  was  in 
the  fortress,  we  were  ordered,  two  of  us, — we  were  relieved 
every  two  hours,  — not  to  let  him  sleep.  So  we  kept  him 
sitting  on  a small  stool,  and  as  soon  as  he  began  to  doze, 
we  shook  him  to  keep  him  awake.  . . . What  will  you  ? — 
we  were  ordered  to  do  so ! . . . Well,  see  how  cunning  he 
was  : he  would  sit  with  crossed  legs,  swinging  one  of  his 
legs  to  make  us  believe  that  he  was  awake,  and  himself,  in 
the  meantime,  would  get  a nap,  continuing  to  swing  his  leg. 
But  we  soon  made  it  out  and  told  those  who  relieved  us, 
so  that  he  was  shaken  and  waked  up  every  few  minutes, 
whether  he  swung  his  leg  or  not.”  “And  how  long  did 
that  last  ? ” my  friend  asked.  “ Oh,  many  days,  — more 
than  one  week.” 

The  naive  character  of  this  description  is  in  itself  a proof 
of  veracity : it  could  not  have  been  invented  ; and  that 
Karakdzoff  was  tortured  to  this  degree  may  be  taken  for 
granted. 

When  Karakdzoff  was  hanged,  one  of  my  comrades  from 
the  corps  of  pages  was  present  at  the  execution  with  his 
regiment  of  cuirassiers.  “ When  he  was  taken  out  of  the 
fortress,”  my  comrade  told  me,  “ sitting  on  the  high  plat- 
form of  the  cart  which  was  jolting  on  the  rough  glacis  of 
the  fortress,  my  first  impression  was  that  they  were  bring- 
ing out  an  india-rubber  doll  to  be  hanged  ; that  Karakdzoff 
was  already  dead.  Imagine  that  the  head,  the  hands,  the 
whole  body  were  absolutely  loose,  as  if  there  were  no  bones 
in  the  body,  or  as  if  the  bones  had  all  been  broken.  It 
was  a terrible  thing  to  see,  and  to  think  what  it  meant. 


256 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


However,  when  two  soldiers  took  him  down  from  the  cart, 
I saw  that  he  moved  his  legs  and  made  strenuous  endeavors 
to  walk  by  himself  and  to  ascend  the  steps  of  the  scaffold. 
So  it  was  not  a doll,  nor  could  he  have  been  in  a swoon. 
All  the  officers  were  very  much  puzzled  at  the  circumstance 
and  could  not  explain  it.”  When,  however,  I suggested 
to  my  comrade  that  perhaps  Karakozoff  had  been  tortured, 
the  color  came  into  his  face  and  he  replied,  “ So  we  all 
thought.” 

Absence  of  sleep  for  weeks  would  alone  be  sufficient  to 
explain  the  state  in  which  that  morally  very  strong  man 
was  at  the  time  of  the  execution.  I may  add  that  I am 
absolutely  certain  that  — at  least  in  one  case  — drugs  were 
administered  to  a prisoner  in  the  fortress,  namely,  Adrian 
Saburoff,  in  1879.  Did  Muravioff  limit  the  torture  to 
this  only  ? Was  he  prevented  from  going  any  further,  or 
not  ? I do  not  know.  But  this  much  I know  : that  I often 
heard  from  high  officials  at  St.  Petersburg  that  torture  had 
been  resorted  to  in  this  case. 

Muravidff  had  promised  to  root  out  all  radical  elements 
in  St.  Petersburg,  and  all  those  who  had  had  in  any  de- 
gree a radical  past  now  lived  under  the  fear  of  falling 
into  the  despot’s  clutches.  Above  all,  they  kept  aloof 
from  the  younger  people,  from  fear  of  being  involved  with 
them  in  some  perilous  political  associations.  In  this  way 
a chasm  was  opened  not  only  between  the  “ fathers  ” and 
the  “sons,”  as  Turgueneff  described  it  in  hi=  novel,  — not 
only  between  the  two  generations,  but  also  between  all 
men  who  had  passed  the  age  of  thirty  and  those  who  were 
in  their  early  twenties.  Russian  youth  stood  consequently 
in  the  position  not  only  of  having  to  fight  in  their  fathers 
the  defenders  of  serfdom,  but  of  being  left  entirely  to 
themselves  by  their  elder  brothers,  who  were  unwilling  to 
join  them  in  their  leanings  toward  Socialism,  and  were 


A TRAGIC  STRUGGLE 


257 


afraid  to  give  them  support  even  in  their  struggle  for 
more  political  freedom.  Was  there  ever  before  in  history, 
I ask  myself,  a youthful  band  engaging  in  a fight  against 
so  formidable  a foe,  so  deserted  by  fathers  and  even  by 
elder  brothers,  although  those  young  men  had  merely  taken 
to  heart,  and  had  tried  to  realize  in  life,  the  intellectual  in- 
heritance of  these  same  fathers  and  brothers  ? Was  there 
ever  a struggle  undertaken  in  more  tragical  conditions  than 
these  ? 


VI 


The  only  bright  point  -which  I saw  in  the  life  of  St. 
Petersburg  was  the  movement  which  was  going  on  amongst 
the  youth  of  both  sexes.  Various  currents  joined  to  pro- 
duce the  mighty  agitation  which  soon  took  an  underground 
and  revolutionary  character,  and  engrossed  the  attention 
of  Russia  for  the  next  fifteen  years.  I shall  speak  of  it 
in  a subsequent  chapter ; but  I must  mention  in  this  place 
the  movement  which  was  carried  on,  quite  openly,  by  our 
women  for  obtaining  access  to  higher  education.  St. 
Petersburg  was  at  that  time  its  main  centre. 

Every  afternoon  the  young  wife  of  my  brother,  on  her 
return  from  the  women’s  pedagogical  courses  which  she 
followed,  had  something  new  to  tell  us  about  the  animation 
which  prevailed  there.  Schemes  were  laid  for  opening  a 
medical  academy  and  universities  for  women ; debates  upon 
schools  or  upon  different  methods  of  education  were  organ- 
ized in  connection  with  the  courses,  and  hundreds  of  women 
took  a passionate  interest  in  these  questions,  discussing 
them  over  and  over  again  in  private.  Societies  of  transla- 
tors, publishers,  printers,  and  bookbinders  were  started  in 
order  that  work  might  be  provided  for  the  poorest  members 
of  the  sisterhood  who  flocked  to  St.  Petersburg,  ready  to  do 
any  sort  of  work,  only  to  live  in  the  hope  that  they,  too, 
would  some  day  have  their  share  of  higher  education.  A 
vigorous,  exuberant  life  reigned  in  those  feminine  centres, 
in  striking  contrast  to  what  I met  elsewhere. 

Since  the  government  had  shown  its  determined  intern 
tion  not  to  admit  women  to  the  existing  universities,  they 
had  directed  all  their  efforts  toward  opening  universities  of 


THE  HIGHER  EDUCATION  OF  WOMEN 


259 


their  own.  They  were  told  at  the  ministry  of  education 
that  the  girls  who  had  passed  through  the  girls’  gymnasia 
(the  high  schools)  were  not  prepared  to  follow  university 
lectures.  “ Very  well,”  they  replied,  “ permit  us  to  open 
intermediate  courses,  preparatory  to  the  university,  and  im- 
pose upon  us  any  programme  you  like.  We  ask  no  grants 
from  the  state.  Only  give  us  the  permission,  and  it  will 
be  done.”  Of  course,  the  permission  was  not  given. 

Then  they  started  private  courses  and  drawing-room 
lectures  in  all  parts  of  St.  Petersburg.  Many  university 
professors,  in  sympathy  with  the  new  movement,  volun- 
teered to  give  lectures.  Poor  men  themselves,  they  warned 
the  organizers  that  any  mention  of  remuneration  would  be 
taken  as  a personal  offense.  Natural  science  excursions 
used  to  be  made  every  summer  in  the  neighborhood  of  St. 
Petersburg,  under  the  guidance  of  university  professors, 
and  women  constituted  the  bulk  of  the  excursionists.  In 
the  courses  for  midwives  they  forced  the  professors  to  treat 
each  subject  in  a far  more  exhaustive  way  than  was  required 
by  the  programme,  or  to  open  additional  courses.  They 
took  advantage  of  every  possibility,  of  every  breach  in  the 
fortress,  to  storm  it.  They  gained  admission  to  the  an- 
atomical laboratory  of  old  Dr.  Gruber,  and  by  their  admir- 
able work  they  won  this  enthusiast  of  anatomy  entirely  to 
their  side.  If  they  learned  that  a professor  had  no  objec- 
tion to  letting  them  work  in  his  laboratory  on  Sundays 
and  at  night  on  week  days,  they  took  advantage  of  the 
opportunity. 

At  last,  notwithstanding  all  the  opposition  of  the  minis- 
try, they  opened  the  intermediate  courses,  only  giving  them 
the  name  of  pedagogical  courses.  Was  it  possible,  indeed, 
to  forbid  future  mothers  studying  the  methods  of  educa- 
tion ? But  as  the  methods  of  teaching  botany  or  mathemat- 
ics could  not  be  taught  in  the  abstract,  botany,  mathematics, 
and  the  rest  were  soon  introduced  into  the  curriculum  of 


260 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


the  pedagogical  courses,  'which  became  preparatory  for  the 
university. 

Step  by  step  the  women  thus  widened  their  rights.  As 
soon  as  it  became  known  that  at  some  German  university  a 
certain  professor  might  open  his  lecture-room  to  a few  wo- 
men, they  knocked  at  his  door  and  were  admitted.  They 
studied  law  and  history  at  Heidelberg,  and  mathematics  at 
Berlin  ; at  Zurich,  more  than  a hundred  girls  and  women 
worked  at  the  university  and  the  polytechnicum.  There 
they  won  something  more  valuable  than  the  degree  of 
Doctor  of  Medicine  ; they  won  the  esteem  of  the  most 
learned  professors,  who  expressed  it  publicly  several  times. 
When  I came  to  Zurich  in  1872,  and  became  acquainted 
with  some  of  the  students,  I was  astonished  to  see  quite 
young  girls,  who  were  studying  at  the  polytechnicum,  solv- 
ing intricate  problems  of  the  theory  of  heat,  with  the  aid  of 
the  differential  calculus,  as  easily  as  if  they  had  had  years 
of  mathematical  training.  One  of  the  Russian  girls  who 
studied  mathematics  under  Weierstrass  at  Berlin,  Sophie 
Kovalevsky,  became  a mathematician  of  high  repute,  and 
was  invited  to  a professorship  at  Stockholm ; she  was,  I 
believe,  the  first  woman  in  our  century  to  hold  a professor- 
ship in  a university  for  men.  She  was  so  young  that  in 
Sweden  no  one  wanted  to  call  her  by  anything  but  her 
diminutive  name  of  Sdnya. 

In  spite  of  the  open  hatred  of  Alexander  II.  for  educated 
women,  — when  he  met  in  his  walks  a girl  wearing  spec- 
tacles and  a round  Garibaldian  cap,  he  began  to  tremble, 
thinking  that  she  must  be  a nihilist  bent  on  shooting  at 
him  ; in  spite  of  the  bitter  opposition  of  the  state  police, 
who  represented  every  woman  student  as  a revolutionist ; 
in  spite  of  the  thunders  and  the  vile  accusations  which 
Katkdff  directed  against  the  whole  of  the  movement  in  al- 
most every  number  of  his  venomous  gazette,  the  women 
eucceeded,  in  the  teeth  of  the  government,  in  opening  a 


SUCCESS  OF  THE  WOMEN 


261 


series  of  educational  institutions.  When  several  of  them 
had  obtained  medical  degrees  abroad,  they  forced  the  gov- 
ernment, in  1872,  to  let  them  open  a medical  academy 
with  their  own  private  means.  And  when  the  Russian 
women  were  recalled  by  their  government  from  Zurich,  to 
prevent  their  intercourse  with  the  revolutionist  refugees, 
they  forced  the  government  to  let  them  open  in  Russia 
four  universities  of  their  own,  which  soon  had  nearly  a 
thousand  pupils.  It  seems  almost  incredible,  but  it  is  a 
fact  that  notwithstanding  all  the  prosecutions  which  the 
Women’s  Medical  Academy  had  to  live  through,  and  its 
temporary  closure,  there  are  now  in  Russia  more  than  six 
hundred  and  seventy  women  practicing  as  physicians. 

It  was  certainly  a grand  movement,  astounding  in  its 
success  and  instructive  in  a high  degree.  Above  all,  it  was 
through  the  unlimited  devotion  of  a mass  of  women  in  all 
possible  capacities  that  they  gained  their  successes.  They 
had  already  worked  as  sisters  of  charity  during  the  Crimean 
war  ; as  organizers  of  schools  later  on  ; as  the  most  devoted 
schoolmistresses  in  the  villages  ; as  educated  midwives  and 
doctors’  assistants  amongst  the  peasants.  They  went  after- 
ward as  nurses  and  doctors  in  the  fever-stricken  hospitals 
during  the  Turkish  war  of  1878,  and  won  the  admiration 
of  the  military  commanders  and  of  Alexander  II.  himself. 
I know  two  ladies,  both  very  eagerly  “ wanted  ” by  the 
state  police,  who  served  as  nurses  during  the  war,  under 
assumed  names  which  were  guaranteed  by  false  passports ; 
one  of  them,  the  greater  “ criminal  ” of  the  two,  who  had 
taken  a prominent  part  in  my  escape,  was  even  appointed 
head  nurse  of  a large  hospital  for  wounded  soldiers,  while 
her  friend  nearly  died  from  typhoid  fever.  In  short,  wo- 
men took  any  position,  no  matter  how  low  in  the  social 
scale,  and  no  matter  what  privations  it  involved,  if  only 
they  could  be  in  any  way  useful  to  the  people  ; not  a few  of 


262 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


them,  but  hundreds  and  thousands.  They  have  conquered 
their  rights  in  the  true  sense  of  the  word. 

Another  feature  of  this  movement  was  that  in  it  the  chasm 
between  the  two  generations  — the  older  and  the  younger 
6isters  — did  not  exist ; or,  at  least,  it  was  bridged  over  to 
a great  extent.  Those  who  were  the  leaders  of  the  move- 
ment from  its  origin  never  broke  the  link  which  connected 
them  with  their  younger  sisters,  even  though  the  latter  were 
far  more  advanced  in  their  ideals  than  the  older  women 
were. 

They  pursued  their  aims  in  the  higher  spheres  ; they  kept 
strictly  aloof  from  any  political  agitation  ; but  they  never 
committed  the  fault  of  forgetting  that  their  true  force  was 
in  the  masses  of  younger  women,  of  whom  a great  number 
finally  joined  the  radical  or  revolutionary  circles.  These 
leaders  were  correctness  itself,  — I considered  them  too 
correct ; but  they  did  not  break  with  those  younger  students 
who  went  about  as  typical  nihilists,  with  short-cropped 
hair,  disdaining  crinoline,  and  betraying  their  democratic 
spirit  in  all  their  behavior.  The  leaders  did  not  mix  with 
them,  and  occasionally  there  was  friction,  but  they  never 
repudiated  them,  — a great  thing,  I believe,  in  those  times 
of  madly  raging  prosecutions. 

They  seemed  to  say  to  the  younger  and  more  democratic 
people : “ We  shall  wear  our  velvet  dresses  and  chignons, 
because  we  have  to  deal  with  fools  who  see  in  a velvet 
dress  and  a chignon  the  tokens  of  ‘ political  reliability  ; * 
but  you,  girls,  remain  free  in  your  tastes  and  inclina- 
tions.” When  the  women  who  studied  at  Zurich  were  or- 
dered by  the  Russian  government  to  return,  these  correct 
ladies  did  not  turn  against  the  rebels.  They  simply  said 
to  the  government : “You  don’t  like  it  ? Well,  then,  open 
women’s  universities  at  home ; otherwise  our  girls  will  go 
abroad  in  still  greater  numbers,  and  of  course  will  enter 
into  relations  with  the  political  refugees.”  When  they 


THE  SECRET  OF  SUCCESS 


268 


were  reproached  with  breeding  revolutionists,  and  were 
menaced  with  the  closing  of  their  academy  and  universities, 
they  retorted,  “ Yes,  many  students  become  revolutionists ; 
but  is  that  a reason  for  closing  all  universities  ? ” How 
few  political  leaders  have  the  moral  courage  not  to  turn 
against  the  more  advanced  wing  of  their  own  party  ! 

The  real  secret  of  their  wise  and  fully  successful  attitude 
was  that  none  of  the  women  who  were  the  soul  of  that  move- 
ment were  mere  “feminists,”  desirous  to  get  their  share 
of  the  privileged  positions  in  society  and  the  state.  Far 
from  that.  The  sympathies  of  most  of  them  went  with  the 
masses.  I remember  the  lively  part  which  Miss  St&sova, 
the  veteran  leader  of  the  agitation,  took  in  the  Sunday 
schools  in  1861,  the  friendships  she  and  her  friends  made 
among  the  factory  girls,  the  interest  they  manifested  in  the 
hard  life  of  these  girls  outside  the  school,  the  fights  they 
fought  against  their  greedy  employers.  I recall  the  keen 
interest  which  the  women  showed,  at  their  pedagogical 
courses,  in  the  village  schools,  and  in  the  work  of  those 
few  who,  like  Baron  KorfF,  were  permitted  for  some  time 
to  do  something  in  that  direction,  and  the  social  spirit 
which  permeated  those  courses.  The  rights  they  strove 
for  — both  the  leaders  and  the  great  bulk  of  the  women  — 
were  not  only  the  individual  right  to  higher  instruction, 
but  much  more,  far  more,  the  right  to  be  useful  workers 
among  the  people,  the  masses.  This  is  why  they  succeeded 
to  such  an  extent. 


VII 


For  the  last  few  years  the  health  of  my  father  had  been 
going  from  bad  to  worse,  and  when  my  brother  Alexander 
and  I came  to  see  him,  in  the  spring  of  1871,  we  were  told 
by  the  doctors  that  with  the  first  frosts  of  autumn  he  would 
he  gone.  He  had  continued  to  live  in  the  old  style,  in  the 
Staraya  Koniishennaya,  but  around  him  everything  in  this 
aristocratic  quarter  had  changed.  The  rich  serf-owners,  who 
once  were  so  prominent  there,  had  gone.  After  having 
spent  in  a reckless  way  the  redemption  money  which  they 
had  received  at  the  emancipation  of  the  serfs,  and  after 
having  mortgaged  and  remortgaged  their  estates  in  the  new 
land  banks  which  preyed  upon  their  helplessness,  they  had 
withdrawn  at  last  to  the  country  or  to  provincial  towns, 
there  to  sink  into  oblivion.  Their  houses  had  been  taken 
by  “ the  intruders,”  — rich  merchants,  railway  builders, 
and  the  like,  — while  in  nearly  every  one  of  the  old  families 
which  remained  in  the  Old  Equerries’  Quarter  a young  life 
struggled  to  assert  its  rights  upon  the  ruins  of  the  old  one. 
A couple  of  retired  generals,  who  cursed  the  new  ways,  and 
relieved  their  griefs  by  predicting  for  Russia  a certain  and 
speedy  ruin  under  the  new  order,  or  some  relative  occasion- 
ally dropping  in,  were  all  the  company  my  father  had  now. 
Out  of  our  many  relatives,  numbering  nearly  a score  of 
families  at  Moscow  alone  in  my  childhood,  two  families  only 
had  remained  in  the  capital,  and  these  had  joined  the  cur- 
rent of  the  new  life,  the  mothers  discussing  with  their  girls 
and  boys  such  matters  as  schools  for  the  people  and  women’s 
universities.  My  father  looked  upon  them  with  contempt. 
My  stepmother  and  my  younger  sister,  Pauline,  who  had  not 


DEATH  OF  MY  FATHER  265 

changed,  did  their  best  to  comfort  him ; but  they  themselves 
felt  strange  in  their  unwonted  surroundings. 

My  father  had  always  been  unkind  and  most  unjust 
toward  my  brother  Alexander,  but  Alexander  was  utterly 
incapable  of  holding  a grudge  against  any  one.  When  he 
entered  our  father’s  sick-room,  with  the  deep,  kind  look  of 
his  large  blue  eyes  and  with  a smile  revealing  his  infinite 
kindness,  and  when  he  immediately  found  out  what  could 
be  done  to  render  the  sufferer  more  comfortable  in  his  sick- 
chair,  and  did  it  as  naturally  as  if  he  had  left  the  sick-room 
only  an  hour  before,  my  father  was  simply  bewildered ; he 
stared  at  him  without  being  able  to  understand.  Our  visit 
brought  life  into  the  dull,  gloomy  house  ; the  nursing  became 
brighter  ; my  stepmother,  Pauline,  the  servants  themselves, 
grew  more  animated,  and  my  father  felt  the  change. 

One  thing  worried  him,  however.  He  had  expected  to 
see  us  come  as  repentant  sons,  imploring  his  support.  But 
when  he  tried  to  direct  conversation  into  that  channel,  we 
stopped  him  with  such  a cheerful  “ Don’t  bother  about  that ; 
we  get  on  very  nicely,”  that  he  was  still  more  bewildered. 
He  looked  for  a scene  in  the  old  style,  — his  sons  begging 
pardon  — and  money  ; perhaps  he  even  regretted  for  a mo- 
ment that  this  did  not  happen  ; but  he  regarded  us  with  a 
greater  esteem.  We  were  all  three  affected  at  parting.  He 
seemed  almost  to  dread  returning  to  his  gloomy  loneliness 
amidst  the  wreckage  of  a system  he  had  lived  to  maintain. 
But  Alexander  had  to  go  back  to  his  service,  and  I was 
leaving  for  Finland. 

When  I was  called  home  again  from  Finland,  I hurried 
to  Moscow,  to  find  the  burial  ceremony  just  beginning,  in 
that  same  old  red  church  where  my  father  had  been  bap- 
tized, and  where  the  last  prayers  had  been  said  over  his 
mother.  As  the  funeral  procession  passed  along  the  streets, 
of  which  every  house  was  so  familiar  to  me  in  my  child- 
hood, I noticed  that  the  houses  had  changed  little,  but  I 
knew  that  in  all  of  them  a new  life  had  begun. 


266 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


In  the  house  which  had  formerly  belonged  to  my  father’s 
mother  and  then  to  Princess  Mi'rski,  and  which  now  was  the 
property  of  General  N , an  old  inhabitant  of  the  quar- 

ter, the  only  daughter  of  the  family  maintained  for  a couple 
of  years  a painful  struggle  against  her  good-natured  but 
obstinate  parents,  who  worshiped  her,  but  would  not  allow 
her  to  study  at  the  university  courses  which  had  been  opened 
for  ladies  at  Moscow.  At  last  she  was  allowed  to  join 
these  courses,  but  was  taken  to  them  in  an  elegant  carriage, 
under  the  close  supervision  of  her  mother,  who  courageously 
sat  for  hours  on  the  benches  amongst  the  students,  by  the 
side  of  her  beloved  daughter ; and  yet,  notwithstanding  all 
this  care  and  watchfulness,  a couple  of  years  later  the 
daughter  joined  the  revolutionary  party,  was  arrested,  and 
spent  one  year  in  the  fortress  of  St.  Peter  and  St.  Paul. 

In  the  house  opposite,  the  despotic  heads  of  the  family, 

Count  and  Countess  Z , were  in  a bitter  struggle  against 

their  two  daughters,  who  were  sick  of  the  idle  and  useless 
existence  their  parents  forced  them  to  lead,  and  wanted  to 
join  those  other  girls  who,  free  and  happy,  flocked  to  the 
university  courses.  The  struggle  lasted  for  years ; the 
parents  did  not  yield  in  this  case,  and  the  result  was  that 
the  elder  girl  ended  her  life  by  poisoning  herself,  whereupon 
her  younger  sister  was  allowed  to  follow  her  own  incli- 
nations. 

In  the  house  next  door,  which  had  been  our  family  resi- 
dence for  a year,  when  I entered  it  with  Tchaykdvsky  to 
hold  in  it  the  first  secret  meeting  of  a circle  which  we 
founded  at  Moscow,  I at  once  recognized  the  rooms  which 
had  been  so  familiar  to  me  in  such  a different  atmosphere  in 
my  childhood.  It  now  belonged  to  the  family  of  Nathalie 
Armfeld, — that  highly  sympathetic  Kara  “convict,”  whom 
George  Kennan  has  so  touchingly  described  in  his  book  on 
Siberia.  And  in  a house  within  a stone’s  throw  of  that 
in  which  my  father  had  died,  and  only  a few  months  after 


NEW  LIFE  IN  MOSCOW 


267 


his  death,  I received  Stepnidk,  clothed  as  a peasant,  he 
having  escaped  from  a country  village  where  he  had  been 
arrested  for  spreading  socialist  ideas  among  the  peasants. 

Such  were  the  changes  which  the  Old  Equerries’  Quarter 
had  undergone  within  the  last  fifteen  years.  The  last 
stronghold  of  the  old  nobility  was  now  invaded  by  the  new 
tpirit. 


vm 


The  next  year,  early  in  the  spring,  I made  my  first 
journey  to  Western  Europe.  In  crossing  the  Russian  fron- 
tier, I experienced  what  every  Russian  feels  on  leaving  his 
mother  country.  So  long  as  the  train  runs  on  Russian 
ground,  through  the  thinly  populated  northwestern  pro- 
vinces, one  has  the  feeling  of  crossing  a desert.  Hundreds 
of  miles  are  covered  with  low  growths  which  hardly  deserve 
the  name  of  forests.  Here  and  there  the  eye  discovers  a 
small,  miserably  poor  village  buried  in  the  snow,  or  an  im- 
practicable, muddy,  narrow,  and  winding  village  road.  Then 
everything  — scenery  and  surroundings  — changes  all  of  a 
sudden,  as  soon  as  the  train  enters  Prussia,  with  its  clean- 
looking villages  and  farms,  its  gardens,  and  its  paved  roads ; 
and  the  sense  of  contrast  grows  stronger  and  stronger  as  one 
penetrates  further  into  Germany.  Even  dull  Berlin  seemed 
animated,  after  our  Russian  towns. 

And  the  contrast  of  climate ! Two  days  before,  I had 
left  St.  Petersburg  thickly  covered  with  snow,  and  now,  in 
middle  Germany,  I walked  without  an  overcoat  along  the 
ra-ilway  platform,  in  warm  sunshine,  admiring  the  budding 
flowers.  Then  came  the  Rhine,  and  further  on  Switzerland 
bathed  in  the  rays  of  a bright  sun,  with  its  small,  clean 
hotels,  where  breakfast  was  served  out  of  doors,  in  view  of 
the  snow-clad  mountains.  I never  before  had  realized  so 
vividly  what  Russia’s  northern  position  meant,  and  how  the 
history  of  the  Russian  nation  had  been  influenced  by  the 
fact  that  the  main  centres  of  its  life  had  to  develop  in  high 
latitudes,  as  far  north  as  the  shores  of  the  Gulf  of  Finland. 
Only  then  I fully  understood  the  uncontrollable  attraction 


RUSSIAN  STUDENTS  AT  ZURICH 


269 


which  southern  lands  have  exercised  on  the  Russians,  the 
colossal  efforts  which  they  have  made  to  reach  the  Black 
Sea,  and  the  steady  pressure  of  the  Siberian  colonists  south- 
ward, further  into  Manchuria. 

At  that  time  Zurich  was  full  of  Russian  students,  both 
women  and  men.  The  famous  Oberstrass,  near  the  Poly- 
technic, was  a corner  of  Russia,  where  the  Russian  language 
prevailed  over  all  others.  The  students  lived  as  most  Rus- 
sian students  do,  especially  the  women ; that  is,  upon  very 
little.  Tea  and  bread,  some  milk,  and  a thin  slice  of  meat 
cooked  over  a spirit  lamp,  amidst  animated  discussions  of 
the  latest  news  from  the  socialistic  world  or  the  last  book 
read,  — that  was  their  regular  fare.  Those  who  had  more 
money  than  was  needed  for  such  a mode  of  living  gave  it 
for  the  common  cause,  — the  library,  the  Russian  review 
which  was  going  to  be  published,  the  support  of  the  Swiss 
labor  papers.  As  to  their  dress,  the  most  parsimonious 
economy  reigned  in  that  direction.  Pushkin  has  written  in 
a well-known  verse,  “ What  hat  may  not  suit  a girl  of  six- 
teen ? ” Our  girls  at  Zurich  seemed  defiantly  to  throw  this 
question  at  the  population  of  the  old  Zwinglian  city : “ Can 
there  be  a simplicity  in  dress  which  does  not  become  a girl, 
when  she  is  young,  intelligent,  and  full  of  energy  ? ” 

With  all  this,  the  busy  little  community  worked  harder 
than  any  other  students  have  ever  worked  since  there  were 
universities  in  existence,  and  the  Zurich  professors  were  never 
tired  of  showing  the  progress  accomplished  by  the  women 
at  the  university,  as  an  example  to  the  male  students. 

For  many  years  I had  longed  to  learn  all  about  the  In- 
ternational Workingmen’s  Association.  Russian  papers 
mentioned  it  pretty  frequently  in  their  columns,  but  they 
were  not  allowed  to  speak  of  its  principles  or  of  what  it  was 
doing.  I felt  that  it  must  be  a great  movement,  full  ol 


270 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


consequences,  but  I could  not  grasp  its  aims  and  tendencies. 
Now  that  I was  in  Switzerland,  I determined  to  satisfy  my 
longings. 

The  association  was  then  at  the  height  of  its  develop- 
ment. Great  hopes  had  been  awakened  in  the  years  1840- 
48  in  the  hearts  of  European  workers.  Only  now  we  begin 
to  realize  what  a formidable  amount  of  socialist  literature 
was  circulated  in  those  years  by  socialists  of  all  denomi- 
nations, — Christian  socialists,  state  socialists,  Fourierists, 
Saint-Simonists,  Owenites,  and  so  on ; and  only  now  we 
begin  to  understand  the  depth  of  this  movement,  as  we  dis- 
cover how  much  of  what  our  generation  has  considered  the 
product  of  contemporary  thought  was  already  developed  and 
said  — often  with  great  penetration  — during  those  years. 
The  republicans  understood  then  under  the  name  of  “ re- 
public ” a quite  different  thing  from  the  democratic  organ- 
ization of  capitalist  rule  which  now  goes  under  that  name. 
When  they  spoke  of  the  United  States  of  Europe,  they 
understood  the  brotherhood  of  workers,  the  weapons  of  war 
transformed  into  tools,  and  those  tools  used  by  all  members 
of  society  for  the  benefit  of  all,  — “ the  iron  returned  to  the 
laborer,”  as  Pierre  Dupont  said  in  one  of  his  songs.  They 
meant  not  only  the  reign  of  equality  as  regards  criminal 
law  and  political  rights,  but  particularly  economic  equality. 
The  nationalists  themselves  saw  in  their  dreams  Young 
Italy,  Young  Germany,  and  Young  Hungary  taking  the 
lead  in  far-reaching  agrarian  and  economic  reforms. 

The  defeat  of  the  June  insurrection  at  Paris,  of  Hungary 
by  the  armies  of  Nicholas  I.,  and  of  Italy  by  the  French 
and  the  Austrians,  and  the  fearful  reaction,  political  and 
intellectual,  which  followed  everywhere  in  Europe,  totally 
destroyed  that  movement.  Its  literature,  its  achievements, 
its  very  principles  of  economic  revolution  and  universal 
brotherhood,  were  simply  forgotten,  lost,  during  the  next 
twenty  years. 


THE  INTERNATIONAL 


271 


However,  one  idea  had  survived,  — the  idea  of  an  inter- 
national brotherhood  of  all  workers,  which  a few  French 
emigrants  continued  to  preach  in  the  United  States,  and 
the  followers  of  Kobert  Owen  in  England.  The  under- 
standing which  was  reached  by  some  English  workers  and 
a few  French  workers’  delegates  to  the  London  Inter- 
national Exhibition  of  1862  became  the  starting-point  for  a 
formidable  movement,  which  soon  spread  all  over  Europe, 
and  included  several  million  workers.  The  hopes  which 
had  been  dormant  for  twenty  years  were  awakened  once 
more,  when  the  workers  were  called  upon  to  unite,  “ with- 
out distinction  of  creed,  sex,  nationality,  race,  or  color,”  to 
proclaim  that  “ the  emancipation  of  the  workers  must  b6 
their  own  work,”  and  to  throw  the  weight  of  a strong, 
united,  international  organization  into  the  evolution  of  man- 
kind,— not  in  the  name  of  love  and  charity,  but  in  the 
name  of  justice,  of  the  force  that  belongs  to  a body  of  men 
moved  by  a reasoned  consciousness  of  their  own  aims  and 
aspirations. 

Two  strikes  at  Paris,  in  1868  and  1869,  more  or  less 
helped  by  small  contributions  sent  from  abroad,  especially 
from  England,  insignificant  though  they  were  in  themselves, 
and  the  prosecutions  which  the  French  imperial  government 
directed  against  the  International,  became  the  origin  of  an 
immense  movement  in  which  the  solidarity  of  the  workers 
of  all  nations  was  proclaimed  in  the  face  of  the  rivalries  of 
the  states.  The  idea  of  an  international  union  of  all  trades, 
and  of  a struggle  against  capital  with  the  aid  of  inter- 
national support,  carried  away  the  most  indifferent  of  the 
workers.  The  movement  spread  like  wildfire  in  France, 
Italy,  and  Spain,  bringing  to  the  front  a great  number  of 
intelligent,  active,  and  devoted  workers,  and  attracting  to  it 
a few  decidedly  superior  men  and  women  from  the  wealthier 
educated  classes.  A force,  never  before  suspected  to  exist, 
grew  stronger  every  day  in  Europe ; and  if  the  movement 


272 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


had  not  been  arrested  in  its  growth  by  the  Franco-German 
war,  great  things  would  probably  have  happened  in  Europe, 
deeply  modifying  the  aspects  of  our  civilization,  and  un- 
doubtedly accelerating  human  progress;  but  the  crushing 
victory  of  the  Germans  brought  about  abnormal  conditions; 
it  stopped  for  a quarter  of  a century  the  normal  development 
of  France,  and  threw  all  Europe  into  the  period  of  militarism 
in  which  we  are  living  at  the  present  time. 

All  sorts  of  partial  solutions  of  the  great  social  question 
had  currency  at  that  time  among  the  workers : cooperation, 
productive  associations  supported  by  the  state,  people’s 
banks,  gratuitous  credit,  and  so  on.  Each  of  these  solu- 
tions was  brought  before  the  “ sections  ” of  the  association, 
and  then  before  the  local,  regional,  national,  and  interna- 
tional congresses,  and  eagerly  discussed.  Every  annual 
congress  of  the  association  marked  a new  step  in  advance, 
in  the  development  of  ideas  about  the  great  social  problem 
which  stands  before  our  generation  and  calls  for  a solution. 
The  amount  of  intelligent  things  which  were  said  at  these 
congresses,  and  of  scientifically  correct,  deeply  thought  over 
ideas  which  were  circulated,  — all  being  the  results  of  the 
collective  thought  of  the  workers,  — has  never  yet  been 
sufficiently  appreciated  ; but  there  is  no  exaggeration  in 
saying  that  all  schemes  of  social  reconstruction  which  are 
now  in  vogue  under  the  name  of  “ scientific  socialism  ” or 
“ anarchism  ” had  their  origin  in  the  discussions  and  re- 
ports of  the  different  congresses  of  the  International  Asso- 
ciation. The  few  educated  men  who  joined  the  movement 
have  only  put  into  a theoretical  shape  the  criticisms  and 
the  aspirations  which  were  expressed  in  the  sections,  and 
subsequently  in  the  congresses,  by  the  workers  themselves. 

The  war  of  1870-71  had  hampered  the  development  of 
the  association,  but  had  not  stopped  it.  In  all  the  indus- 
trial centres  of  Switzerland  numerous  and  animated  sec- 


THE  INTERNATIONAL 


273 


tions  of  the  International  existed,  and  thousands  of  workers 
flocked  to  their  meetings,  at  which  war  was  declared  upon 
the  existing  system  of  private  ownership  of  land  and  fac- 
tories, and  the  near  end  of  the  capitalist  system  was  pro- 
claimed. Local  congresses  were  held  in  various  parts  of 
the  country,  and  at  each  of  these  gatherings  the  most  ardu- 
ous and  difficult  problems  of  the  present  social  organization 
were  discussed,  with  a knowledge  of  the  matter  and  a depth 
of  conception  which  alarmed  the  middle  classes  even  more 
than  did  the  numbers  of  adherents  who  joined  the  sections, 
or  groups,  of  the  International.  The  jealousies  and  preju- 
dices which  had  hitherto  existed  in  Switzerland  between 
the  privileged  trades  (the  watchmakers  and  the  jewelers) 
and  the  rougher  trades  (weavers,  and  so  on),  and  which  had 
prevented  joint  action  in  labor  disputes,  were  disappearing. 
The  workers  asserted  with  increasing  emphasis  that,  of  all 
the  divisions  which  exist  in  modern  society,  by  far  the  most 
important  is  that  between  the  owners  of  capital  and  those 
who  come  into  the  world  penniless,  and  are  doomed  to  re- 
main producers  of  wealth  for  the  favored  few. 

Italy,  especially  middle  and  northern  Italy,  was  honey- 
combed with  groups  and  sections  of  the  International ; and 
in  these  the  Italian  unity  so  long  struggled  for  was  declared 
a mere  illusion.  The  workers  were  called  upon  to  make 
their  own  revolution,  — to  take  the  land  for  the  peasants 
and  the  factories  for  the  workers  themselves,  and  to  abolish 
the  oppressive  centralized  organization  of  the  state,  whose 
historical  mission  always  was  to  protect  and  to  maintain 
the  exploitation  of  man  by  man. 

In  Spain,  similar  organizations  covered  Catalonia,  Valen- 
cia, and  Andalusia ; they  were  supported  by,  and  united 
with,  the  powerful  labor  unions  of  Barcelona,  which  had 
already  introduced  the  eight  hours’  day  in  the  building 
trades.  The  International  had  no  less  than  eighty  thou- 
sand regularly  paying  Spanish  members;  it  embodied  all 


274 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


the  active  and  thinking  elements  of  the  population  ; and 
by  its  distinct  refusal  to  meddle  with  the  political  intriguel 
during  1871-72  it  had  drawn  to  itself  in  a very  high  de- 
gree the  sympathies  of  the  masses.  The  proceedings  of  its 
provincial  and  national  congresses,  and  the  manifestoes 
which  they  issued,  were  models  of  a severe  logical  criticism 
of  the  existing  conditions,  as  well  as  admirably  lucid  state- 
ments of  the  workers’  ideals. 

In  Belgium,  Holland,  and  even  in  Portugal,  the  same 
movement  was  spreading,  and  it  had  already  brought  into 
the  association  the  great  mass  and  the  best  elements  of  the 
Belgian  coal  miners  and  weavers.  In  England,  the  always 
conservative  trade  unions  had  also  joined  the  movement,  at 
least  in  principle,  and,  without  committing  themselves  to 
socialism,  were  ready  to  support  their  Continental  brethren 
in  direct  struggles  against  capital,  especially  in  strikes.  In 
Germany,  the  socialists  had  concluded  a union  with  the 
rather  numerous  followers  of  Lassalle,  and  the  first  founda- 
tions of  a social  democratic  party  had  been  laid.  Austria 
and  Hungary  followed  in  the  same  track  ; and  although 
no  international  organization  was  possible  at  that  time  in 
France,  after  the  defeat  of  the  Commune  and  the  reaction 
which  followed  (Draconic  laws  having  been  enacted  against 
the  adherents  of  the  association),  every  one  was  persuaded, 
nevertheless,  that  this  period  of  reaction  would  not  last, 
and  that  France  would  soon  join  the  association  again  and 
take  the  lead  in  it. 

When  I came  to  Zurich,  I joined  one  of  the  local  sec- 
tions of  the  International  "Workingmen's  Association.  I 
also  asked  my  Russian  friends  where  I could  learn  more 
about  the  great  movement  which  was  going  on  in  other 
countries.  “ Read,”  was  their  reply,  and  my  sister-in-law, 
who  was  then  studying  at  Zurich,  brought  me  large  num- 
bers of  books  and  collections  of  newspapers  for  the  last  two 
years.  I spent  days  and  nights  in  reading,  and  received  a 


SOCIALISTIC  LITERATURE 


275 


deep  impression  which  nothing  will  efface ; the  flood  of  new 
thoughts  awakened  is  associated  in  my  mind  with  a tiny 
clean  room  in  the  Oberstrass,  commanding  from  a window 
a view  of  the  blue  lake,  with  the  mountains  beyond  it, 
where  the  Swiss  fought  for  their  independence,  and  the 
high  spires  of  the  old  town,  — that  scene  of  so  many  reli- 
gious struggles. 

Socialistic  literature  has  never  been  rich  in  books.  It  is 
written  for  workers,  for  whom  one  penny  is  money,  and  its 
main  force  lies  in  its  small  pamphlets  and  its  newspapers. 
Moreover,  he  who  seeks  for  information  about  socialism 
finds  in  books  little  of  what  he  requires  most.  They  con- 
tain the  theories  or  the  scientific  arguments  in  favor  of 
socialist  aspirations,  but  they  give  no  idea  how  the  workers 
accept  socialist  ideals,  and  how  the  latter  could  be  put  into 
practice.  There  remains  nothing  but  to  take  collections  of 
papers  and  read  them  all  through,  — the  news  as  well  as 
the  leading  articles,  the  former  perhaps  even  more  than  the 
latter.  Quite  a new  world  of  social  relations  and  methods 
of  thought  and  action  is  revealed  by  this  reading,  which 
gives  an  insight  into  what  cannot  be  found  anywhere  else, 
— namely,  the  depth  and  the  moral  force  of  the  movement, 
the  degree  to  which  men  are  imbued  with  the  new  theories, 
their  readiness  to  carry  them  out  in  their  daily  life  and 
to  suffer  for  them.  All  discussions  about  the  impractica- 
bility of  socialism  and  the  necessary  slowness  of  evolution 
are  of  little  value,  because  the  speed  of  evolution  can  only 
be  judged  from  a close  knowledge  of  the  human  beings  of 
whose  evolution  we  are  speaking.  What  estimate  of  a sum 
can  be  made  without  knowing  its  components  ? 

The  more  I read,  the  more  I saw  that  there  was  before 
me  a new  world,  unknown  to  me,  and  totally  unknown  to 
the  learned  makers  of  sociological  theories,  — a world  that 
I could  know  only  by  living  in  the  Workingmen’s  Associa- 
tion and  by  meeting  the  workers  in  their  evory-day  life.  ] 


276 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


decided,  accordingly,  to  spend  a couple  of  months  in  such  a 
life.  My  Russian  friends  encouraged  me,  and  after  a few 
days’  stay  at  Zurich  I left  for  Geneva,  which  was  then  a 
great  centre  of  the  international  movement. 

The  place  where  the  Geneva  sections  used  to  meet  was 
the  spacious  Masonic  Temple  Unique.  More  than  two 
thousand  men  could  come  together  in  its  large  hall,  at  the 
general  meetings,  while  every  evening  all  sorts  of  com- 
mittee  and  section  meetings  took  place  in  the  side  rooms, 
or  classes  in  history,  physics,  engineering,  and  so  on  were 
held.  Free  instruction  was  given  there  to  the  workers  by 
the  few,  very  few,  middle-class  men  who  had  joined  the 
movement,  mainly  French  refugees  of  the  Paris  Commune. 
It  was  a people’s  university  as  well  as  a people’s  forum. 

One  of  the  chief  leaders  of  the  movement  at  the  Temple 
Unique  was  a Russian,  Nicholas  Ootin,  — a bright,  clever, 
and  active  man ; and  the  real  soul  of  it  was  a most  sympa- 
thetic Russian  lady,  who  was  known  far  and  wide  amongst 
the  workers  as  Madame  Olga.  She  was  the  working  force 
in  all  the  committees.  Both  Ootin  and  Madame  Olga  re- 
ceived me  cordially,  made  me  acquainted  with  all  the  men 
of  mark  in  the  sections  of  the  different  trades,  and  invited 
me  to  be  present  at  the  committee  meetings.  So  I went, 
hut  I preferred  being  with  the  workers  themselves.  Tak- 
ing a glass  of  sour  wine  at  one  of  the  tables  in  the  hall, 
I used  to  sit  there  every  evening  amid  the  workers,  and 
soon  became  friendly  with  several  of  them,  especially  with 
a stone-mason  from  Alsace,  who  had  left  France  after  the 
insurrection  of  the  Commune.  He  had  children,  just  about 
the  age  of  the  two  whom  my  brother  had  so  suddenly  lost 
a few  months  before,  and  through  the  children  I was  soon 
on  good  terms  with  the  family  and  their  friends.  I could 
thus  follow  the  movement  from  the  inside,  and  know  the 
Workers’  view  of  it. 


AN  ELEVATING  INFLUENCE 


277 


The  workers  had  built  all  their  hopes  on  the  interna- 
tional movement.  Young  and  old  flocked  to  the  Temple 
Unique  after  their  long  day’s  work,  to  get  hold  of  the 
scraps  of  instruction  which  they  could  obtain  there,  or  to 
listen  to  the  speakers  who  promised  them  a grand  future, 
based  upon  the  common  possession  of  all  that  man  requires 
for  the  production  of  wealth,  and  upon  a brotherhood  of 
men,  without  distinction  of  caste,  race,  or  nationality.  All 
hoped  that  a great  social  revolution,  peaceful  or  not,  would 
soon  come  and  totally  change  the  economic  conditions.  No 
one  desired  class  war,  but  all  said  that  if  the  ruling  classes 
rendered  it  unavoidable  through  their  blind  obstinacy,  the 
war  must  be  fought,  provided  it  would  bring  with  it  well- 
being and  liberty  to  the  downtrodden  masses. 

One  must  have  lived  among  the  workers  at  that  time  to 
realize  the  effect  which  the  sudden  growth  of  the  associa- 
tion had  upon  their  minds, — the  trust  they  put  in  it,  the  love 
with  which  they  spoke  of  it,  the  sacrifices  they  made  for  it. 
Every  day,  week  after  week  and  year  after  year,  thousands 
of  workers  gave  their  time  and  their  money,  even  went 
hungry,  in  order  to  support  the  life  of  each  group,  to  secure 
the  appearance  of  the  papers,  to  defray  the  expenses  of  the 
congresses,  to  support  the  comrades  who  had  suffered  for 
the  association,  — nay,  even  to  be  present  at  the  meetings 
and  the  manifestations.  Another  thing  that  impressed  me 
deeply  was  the  elevating  influence  which  the  International 
exercised.  Most  of  the  Paris  Internationalists  were  almost 
total  abstainers  from  drink,  and  all  had  abandoned  smok- 
ing. “ Why  should  I nurture  in  myself  that  weakness  ? ” 
they  said.  The  mean,  the  trivial  disappeared  to  leave 
room  for  the  grand,  the  elevating  inspirations. 

Outsiders  never  realize  the  sacrifices  which  are  made  by 
the  workers  in  order  to  keep  their  labor  movements  alive. 
No  small  amount  of  moral  courage  was  required  to  join 
openly  a section  of  the  International  Association,  and  to 


*78 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


face  the  discontent  of  the  master  and  a probable  dismissal 
at  the  first  opportunity,  with  the  long  months  out  of  work 
which  usually  followed.  But  even  under  the  best  circum- 
stances, belonging  to  a trade  union,  or  to  any  advanced 
party,  requires  a series  of  uninterrupted  sacrifices.  Even 
a few  pence  given  for  the  common  cause  represent  a burden 
on  the  meagre  budget  of  the  European  worker,  and  many 
pence  had  to  be  disbursed  every  week.  Frequent  attend- 
ance at  the  meetings  means  a sacrifice,  too.  For  us  it  may 
be  a pleasure  to  spend  a couple  of  hours  at  a meeting,  but 
for  men  whose  working  day  begins  at  five  or  six  in  the 
morning  those  hours  have  to  be  stolen  from  necessary  rest. 

I felt  this  devotion  as  a standing  reproach.  I saw  how 
eager  the  workers  were  to  gain  instruction,  and  despairingly 
few  were  those  who  volunteered  to  aid  them.  I saw  how 
much  the  toiling  masses  needed  to  be  helped  by  men  pos- 
sessed of  education  and  leisure,  in  their  endeavors  to  spread 
and  to  develop  the  organization ; but  few  were  those  who 
came  to  assist  without  the  intention  of  making  political 
capital  out  of  this  very  helplessness  of  the  people  ! More 
and  more  I began  to  feel  that  I was  bound  to  cast  in  my 
lot  with  them.  Stepniak  says,  in  his  “ Career  of  a Nihilist,” 
that  every  revolutionist  has  had  a moment  in  his  life  when 
some  circumstance,  maybe  unimportant  in  itself,  has  brought 
him  to  pronounce  his  oath  of  giving  himself  to  the  cause  of 
revolution.  I know  that  moment ; I lived  through  it  after 
one  of  the  meetings  at  the  Temple  Unique,  when  I felt 
more  acutely  than  ever  before  how  cowardly  are  the  edu- 
cated men  who  hesitate  to  put  their  education,  their  know- 
ledge, their  energy,  at  the  service  of  those  who  are  so  much 
in  need  of  that  education  and  that  energy.  “ Here  are 
men,”  I said  to  myself,  ‘‘who  are  conscious  of  their  servi- 
tude, who  work  to  get  rid  of  it ; but  where  are  the  helpers  ? 
Where  are  those  who  will  come  to  serve  the  masses  — not 
to  utilize  them  for  their  own  ambitions  ? ” 


POLITICAL  WIRE-PULLING 


279 


Gradually,  however,  some  doubts  began  to  creep  into  my 
mind  as  to  the  soundness  of  the  agitation  which  was  car- 
ried on  at  the  Temple  Unique.  One  night,  a well-known 
Geneva  lawyer,  Monsieur  A.,  came  to  the  meeting,  and 
stated  that  if  he  had  not  hitherto  joined  the  association,  it 
was  because  he  had  first  to  settle  his  own  business  affairs ; 
having  now  succeeded  in  that  direction,  he  came  to  join 
the  labor  movement.  I felt  shocked  at  this  cynical  avowal, 
and  when  I communicated  my  reflections  to  my  stone-mason 
friend,  he  explained  to  me  that  this  gentleman,  having 
been  defeated  at  the  previous  election,  when  he  sought  the 
support  of  the  radical  party,  now  hoped  to  be  elected  by 
the  support  of  the  labor  vote.  “ We  accept  their  services 
for  the  present,”  my  friend  concluded,  “but  when  the 
revolution  comes,  our  first  move  will  be  to  throw  all  of 
them  overboard.” 

Then  came  a great  meeting,  hastily  convoked,  to  protest, 
as  it  was  said,  against  “ the  calumnies  ” of  the  “ Journal  de 
Geneve.”  This  organ  of  the  moneyed  classes  of  Geneva 
had  ventured  to  suggest  that  mischief  was  brewing  at  the 
Temple  Unique,  and  that  the  building  trades  were  going 
once  more  to  make  a general  strike,  such  as  they  had  made  in 
1869.  The  leaders  at  the  Temple  Unique  called  the  meet- 
ing. Thousands  of  workers  filled  the  hall,  and  Ootin 
asked  them  to  pass  a resolution,  the  wording  of  which 
seemed  to  me  very  strange,  — an  indignant  protest  was  ex- 
pressed in  it  against  the  inoffensive  suggestion  that  the 
workers  were  going  to  strike.  “ Why  should  this  sugges- 
tion be  described  as  a calumny  ? ” I asked  myself.  “ Is 
it  then  a crime  to  strike  ? ” Ootin  concluded  a hurried 
speech  with  the  words,  “ If  you  agree,  citizens,  to  this 
resolution,  I will  send  it  at  once  to  the  press.”  He  was 
going  to  leave  the  platform,  when  somebody  in  the  hall 
suggested  that  discussion  would  not  be  out  of  place ; and 
then  the  representatives  of  all  branches  of  the  building 


280 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


trades  stood  up  in  succession,  saying  that  the  wages  had 
lately  been  so  low  that  they  could  hardly  live  upon  them ; 
that  with  the  opening  of  the  spring  there  was  plenty  of 
work  in  view,  of  which  they  intended  to  take  advantage  to 
increase  their  wages ; and  that  if  an  increase  were  refused 
they  intended  to  begin  a general  strike. 

I was  furious,  and  next  day  hotly  reproached  Ootin  foi 
his  behavior.  “ As  a leader,”  I told  him,  “ you  were 
bound  to  know  that  a strike  had  really  been  spoken  of.” 
In  my  innocence  I did  not  suspect  the  real  motives  of  the 
leaders,  and  it  was  Ootin  himself  who  made  me  under- 
stand that  a strike  at  that  time  would  be  disastrous  for  the 
election  of  the  lawyer,  Monsieur  A. 

I could  not  reconcile  this  wire-pulling  by  the  leaders 
with  the  burning  speeches  I had  heard  them  pronounce 
from  the  platform.  I felt  disheartened,  and  spoke  to  Ootin 
of  my  intention  to  make  myself  acquainted  with  the  other 
section  of  the  International  Association  at  Geneva,  which 
was  known  as  the  Bakunists  ; the  name  “ anarchist  ” was 
not  much  in  use  then.  Ootin  gave  me  at  once  a word  of 
introduction  to  another  Russian,  Nicholas  Joukdvsky,  who 
belonged  to  that  section,  and,  looking  straight  into  my  face, 
he  added,  ■with  a sigh,  “ Well,  you  won’t  return  to  us;  you 
will  remain  with  them.”  He  had  guessed  right. 


I went  first  to  Neuchatel,  and  then  spent  a week  or  so 
among  the  watchmakers  in  the  Jura  Mountains.  I thus 
made  my  first  acquaintance  with  that  famous  Jura  Federa- 
tion which  for  the  next  few  years  played  an  important  part 
in  the  development  of  socialism,  introducing  into  it  the 
no-government,  or  anarchist,  tendency. 

In  1872  the  Jura  Federation  was  becoming  a rebel  against 
the  authority  of  the  general  council  of  the  International 
Workingmen’s  Association.  The  association  was  essentially 
a workingmen’s  movement,  the  workers  understanding  it 
as  such  and  not  as  a political  party.  In  east  Belgium, 
for  instance,  they  had  introduced  into  the  statutes  a clause 
in  virtue  of  which  no  one  could  be  a member  of  a section 
unless  employed  in  a manual  trade  ; even  foremen  were 
excluded. 

The  workers  were,  moreover,  federalist  in  principle. 
Each  nation,  each  separate  region,  and  even  each  local  sec- 
tion had  to  be  left  free  to  develop  on  its  own  lines.  But 
the  middle-class  revolutionists  of  the  old  school  who  had 
entered  the  International,  imbued  as  they  were  with  the 
notions  of  the  centralized,  pyramidal  secret  organizations  of 
earlier  times,  had  introduced  the  same  notions  into  the 
Workingmen’s  Association.  Beside  the  federal  and  na- 
tional councils,  a general  council  was  nominated  at  London, 
to  act  as  a sort  of  intermediary  between  the  councils  of  the 
different  nations.  Marx  and  Engels  were  its  leading  spirits. 
It  soon  appeared,  however,  that  the  mere  fact  of  having 
such  a central  body  became  a source  of  substantial  incon- 
venience. The  general  council  was  not  satisfied  with  play- 


282 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


ing  the  part  of  a correspondence  bureau ; it  strove  to  govern 
the  movement,  to  approve  or  to  censure  the  action  of  the 
local  federations  and  sections,  and  even  of  individual  mem- 
bers. When  the  Commune  insurrection  began  in  Paris, 
— and  “ the  leaders  had  only  to  follow,”  without  being 
able  to  say  whereto  they  would  be  led  within  the  next 
twenty-four  hours,  — the  general  council  insisted  upon  di- 
recting the  insurrection  from  London.  It  required  daily 
reports  about  the  events,  gave  orders,  favored  this  and 
hampered  that,  and  thus  put  in  evidence  the  disadvantage 
of  having  a governing  body,  even  within  the  association. 
The  disadvantage  became  still  more  evident  when,  at  a 
secret  conference  held  in  1871,  the  general  council,  sup- 
ported by  a few  delegates,  decided  to  direct  the  forces  of 
the  association  toward  electoral  agitation.  It  set  people 
thinking  about  the  evils  of  any  government,  however  demo- 
cratic its  origin.  This  was  the  first  spark  of  anarchism. 
The  Jura  Federation  became  the  centre  of  opposition  to  the 
general  council. 

The  separation  between  leaders  and  workers  which  I had 
noticed  at  Geneva  in  the  Temple  Unique  did  not  exist  in 
the  Jura  Mountains.  There  were  a number  of  men  who 
were  more  intelligent,  and  especially  more  active  than  the 
others  ; but  that  was  all.  James  Guillaume,  one  of  the 
most  intelligent  and  broadly  educated  men  I ever  met,  was 
a proof-reader  and  the  manager  of  a small  printing-office 
His  earnings  in  this  capacity  were  so  small  that  he  had  to 
give  his  nights  to  translating  novels  from  German  into 
French,  for  which  he  was  paid  eight  francs  — one  dollar 
and  sixty  cents  — for  sixteen  pages  ! 

When  I came  to  Neuchatel,  he  told  me  that  unfortu- 
nately he  could  not  give  even  as  much  as  a couple  of  hours 
for  a friendly  chat.  The  printing-office  was  just  issuing 
that  afternoon  the  first  number  of  a local  paper,  and  in 


FRIENDS  AT  NEUCHATEL 


283 


addition  to  his  usual  duties  of  proof-reader  and  co-editor,  he 
had  to  write  the  addresses  of  a thousand  persons  to  whom 
the  first  three  numbers  were  to  be  sent,  and  to  put  on  the 
wrappers  himself. 

I offered  to  aid  him  in  writing  the  addresses,  but  that 
was  not  practicable  because  they  were  either  kept  in  mem* 
ory,  or  written  on  scraps  of  paper  in  an  unreadable  hand. 
“ Well,  then,”  said  I,  “ I will  come  in  the  afternoon  to  the 
office  and  put  on  the  wrappers,  and  you  will  give  me  the 
time  which  you  may  thus  save.” 

We  understood  each  other.  Guillaume  warmly  shook 
my  hand,  and  that  was  the  beginning  of  a standing  friend- 
ship. We  spent  all  the  afternoon  in  the  office,  he  writ- 
ing the  addresses,  I fastening  the  wrappers,  and  a French 
communard,  who  was  a compositor,  chatting  with  us  all  the 
while  as  he  rapidly  set  up  a novel,  intermingling  his  con- 
versation with  the  sentences  which  he  was  putting  in  type 
and  which  he  read  aloud. 

“ The  fight  in  the  streets,”  he  would  say,  “ became  very 
sharp  ”...  “Dear  Mary,  I love  you  ” . . . “ The  workers 
were  furious  and  fought  like  lions  at  Montmartre  ”... 
“ and  he  fell  on  his  knees  before  her  ” . . . “ and  that 
lasted  for  four  days.  We  knew  that  Gallifet  was  shooting 
all  prisoners,  — the  more  terrible  still  was  the  fight,”  — 
and  so  on  he  went,  rapidly  lifting  the  type  from  the  case. 

It  was  late  in  the  evening  when  Guillaume  took  off  his 
working  blouse,  and  we  went  out  for  a friendly  chat  for  a 
couple  of  hours ; then  he  had  to  resume  his  work  as  editor 
of  the  “Bulletin”  of  the  Jura  Federation. 

At  Neuchatel  I also  made  the  acquaintance  of  Malon. 
He  was  born  in  a village,  and  in  his  childhood  he  was  a 
shepherd.  Later  on,  he  came  to  Paris,  learned  there  a 
trade,  — basket-making,  — and,  like  the  bookbinder  Varlin 
and  the  carpenter  Pindy,  with  whom  he  was  associated  in 
the  International,  had  come  to  be  widely  known  as  one  of 


284 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


the  leaders  of  the  Association  when  it  was  prosecuted  in 
1869  by  Napoleon  III.  All  three  had  quite  won  the  hearts 
of  the  Paris  workers,  and  when  the  Commune  insurrection 
broke  out,  they  were  elected  members  of  the  Council  of  the 
Commune,  each  receiving  a large  vote.  Malon  was  also 
mayor  of  one  of  the  Paris  arrondissements.  Now,  in 
Switzerland,  he  earned  his  living  as  a basket-maker.  He 
had  rented  for  a few  coppers  a month  a small  open  shed, 
out  of  town,  on  the  slope  of  a hill,  from  which  he  enjoyed, 
while  at  work,  an  extensive  view  of  the  lake  of  Neuchatel. 
At  night  he  wrote  letters,  a book  on  the  Commune,  short 
articles  for  the  labor  papers,  and  thus  he  became  a writer. 

Every  day  I went  to  see  him,  and  to  hear  what  the  broad- 
faced, laborious,  slightly  poetical,  quiet,  and  most  good- 
hearted  communard  had  to  tell  me  about  the  insurrec- 
tion in  which  he  took  a prominent  part,  and  which  he  had 
just  described  in  a book,  “ The  Third  Defeat  of  the  French 
Proletariat.” 

One  morning,  as  I had  climbed  the  hill  and  reached  hia 
shed,  he  met  me,  quite  radiant,  with  the  words : “ Do  you 
know,  Pindy  is  alive ! Here  is  a letter  from  him : he  is  in 
Switzerland.”  Nothing  had  been  heard  of  Pindy  since  he 
was  seen  last  on  the  25th  or  26th  of  May  at  the  Tuileries, 
and  he  was  supposed  to  be  dead,  while  in  reality  he  had 
remained  in  concealment  in  Paris.  And  while  Malon’s 
fingers  continued  to  ply  the  wickers  and  to  shape  them  into 
an  elegant  basket,  he  told  me  in  his  quiet  voice,  which  only 
slightly  trembled  at  times,  how  many  men  had  been  shot 
by  the  Versailles  troops  on  the  supposition  that  they  were 
Pindy,  Varlin,  himself,  or  some  other  leader.  He  told  me 
what  he  knew  of  the  deaths  of  Varlin  — the  bookbinder, 
whom  the  Paris  workers  worshiped  — and  old  Delecluze, 
who  did  not  want  to  survive  that  new  defeat,  and  many 
others ; and  he  related  the  horrors  which  he  had  witnessed 
during  that  carnival  of  blood  with  which  the  wealthy  classes 


REFUGEES  OF  THE  COMMUNE 


285 


of  Paris  celebrated  their  return  to  the  capital,  and  then  the 
spirit  of  retaliation  -which  took  hold  of  a crowd  of  people, 
led  by  Raoul  Rigault,  which  executed  the  hostages  of  the 
Commune. 

His  lips  quivered  when  he  spoke  of  the  heroism  of  the 
children ; and  he  quite  broke  down  when  he  told  me  the 
story  of  that  boy  whom  the  Versailles  troops  were  about  to 
shoot,  and  who  asked  the  officer’s  permission  to  hand  first  a 
silver  watch,  which  he  had  on,  to  his  mother,  who  lived  close 
by.  The  officer,  yielding  to  an  impulse  of  pity,  let  the  boy 
go,  probably  hoping  that  he  would  never  return.  But  a 
quarter  of  an  hour  later  the  boy  came  back,  and,  taking  his 
place  amidst  the  corpses  at  the  wall,  said : “ I am  ready.” 
Twelve  bullets  put  an  end  to  his  young  life. 

I think  I never  suffered  so  much  as  when  I read  that 
terrible  book,  “ Le  Livre  Rouge  de  la  Justice  Rurale,” 
which  contained  nothing  but  extracts  from  the  letters  of  the 
“ Standard,”  “ Daily  Telegraph,”  and  “ Times  ” correspond- 
ents, written  from  Paris  during  the  last  days  of  May,  1871, 
relating  the  horrors  committed  by  the  Versailles  army,  under 
Gallifet,  with  a few  quotations  from  the  Paris  “ Figaro,”  im- 
bued with  a bloodthirsty  spirit  toward  the  insurgents.  I 
was  seized  with  a profound  despair  of  mankind  as  I read 
these  pages,  and  I should  have  retained  that  despair,  had  I 
not  seen  afterward,  in  those  of  the  defeated  party  who  had 
lived  through  all  these  horrors,  that  absence  of  hatred,  that 
confidence  in  the  final  triumph  of  their  ideas,  that  calm 
though  sad  gaze  directed  toward  the  future,  and  that 
readiness  to  forget  the  nightmare  of  the  past,  which  struck 
one  in  Malon,  and,  in  fact,  in  nearly  all  the  refugees  of 
the  Commune  whom  I met  at  Geneva,  — and  which  I still 
see  in  Louise  Michel,  Lefran<;ais,  Elisde  Reclus,  and  other 
friends. 

From  Neuchatel  I went  to  Sonvilliers.  In  a little  valley 
in  the  Jura  hills  there  is  a succession  of  small  towns  and 


286 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


villages,  of  which  the  French-speaking  population  was  at 
that  time  entirely  employed  in  the  various  branches  of 
watchmaking ; whole  families  used  to  work  in  small  work- 
shops. In  one  of  them  I found  another  leader,  Adhemar 
Schwitzguebel,  with  whom,  also,  I afterward  became  very 
closely  connected.  He  sat  among  a dozen  young  men  who 
were  engraving  lids  of  gold  and  silver  watches.  I was 
asked  to  take  a seat  on  a bench,  or  table,  and  soon  we  were 
all  engaged  in  a lively  conversation  upon  socialism,  govern- 
ment or  no  government,  and  the  coming  congresses. 

In  the  evening  a heavy  snowstorm  raged  ; it  blinded  us 
and  froze  the  blood  in  our  veins,  as  we  struggled  to  the 
next  village.  But,  notwithstanding  the  storm,  about  fifty 
watchmakers,  chiefly  old  people,  came  from  the  neighboring 
towns  and  villages,  — some  of  them  as  far  as  seven  miles 
distant,  — to  join  a small  informal  meeting  that  was  called 
for  that  evening. 

The  very  organization  of  the  watch  trade,  which  permits 
men  to  know  one  another  thoroughly  and  to  work  in  their 
own  houses,  where  they  are  free  to  talk,  explains  why  the 
level  of  intellectual  development  in  this  population  is  higher 
than  that  of  workers  who  spend  all  their  life  from  early 
childhood  in  the  factories.  There  is  more  independence 
and  more  originality  among  the  petty  trades’  workers.  But 
the  absence  of  a division  between  the  leaders  and  the  masses 
in  the  Jura  Federation  was  also  the  reason  why  there  was 
not  a question  upon  which  every  member  of  the  federation 
would  not  strive  to  form  his  own  independent  opinion. 
Here  I saw  that  the  workers  were  not  a mass  that  was 
being  led  and  made  subservient  to  the  political  ends  of  a few 
men ; their  leaders  were  simply  their  more  active  comrades,  — 
initiators  rather  than  leaders.  The  clearness  of  insight,  the 
soundness  of  judgment,  the  capacity  for  disentangling  com- 
plex social  questions,  which  I noticed  amongst  these  work- 
ers, especially  the  middle-aged  ones,  deeply  impressed  me ; 


AMONG  THE  WATCHMAKERS 


287 


and  I am  firmly  persuaded  that  if  the  Jura  Federation  has 
played  a prominent  part  in  the  development  of  socialism,  it 
is  not  only  on  account  of  the  importance  of  the  no-govern- 
ment and  federalist  ideas  of  which  it  was  the  champion,  but 
also  on  account  of  the  expression  which  was  given  to  these 
ideas  by  the  good  sense  of  the  Jura  watchmakers.  Without 
their  aid,  these  conceptions  might  have  remained  mere  ab- 
stractions for  a long  time. 

The  theoretical  aspects  of  anarchism,  as  they  were  then 
beginning  to  be  expressed  in  the  Jura  Federation,  especially 
by  Bakunin  ; the  criticisms  of  state  socialism  — the  fear  of 
an  economic  despotism,  far  more  dangerous  than  the  merely 
political  despotism  — which  I heard  formulated  there  ; and 
the  revolutionary  character  of  the  agitation,  appealed  strongly 
to  my  mind.  But  the  equalitarian  relations  which  I found 
in  the  Jura  Mountains,  the  independence  of  thought  and 
expression  which  I saw  developing  in  the  workers,  and  their 
unlimited  devotion  to  the  cause  appealed  far  more  strongly 
to  my  feelings  ; and  when  I came  away  from  the  mountains, 
after  a week’s  stay  with  the  watchmakers,  my  views  upon 
socialism  were  settled.  I was  an  anarchist. 

A subsequent  journey  to  Belgium,  where  I could  compare 
once  more  the  centralized  political  agitation  at  Brussels  with 
the  economic  and  independent  agitation  that  was  going 
on  amongst  the  clothiers  at  Yerviers,  only  strengthened  my 
views.  These  clothiers  were  one  of  the  most  sympathetic 
populations  that  I have  ever  met  with  in  Western  Europe. 


X 


Bakunin  was  at  that  time  at  Locarno.  I did  not  st, 
him,  and  now  regret  it  very  much,  because  he  was  dear" 
when  I returned  four  years  later  to  Switzerland.  It  wa. 
he  who  had  helped  the  Jura  friends  to  clear  up  their 
ideas  and  to  formulate  their  aspirations  ; he  who  had  in- 
spired them  with  his  powerful,  burning,  irresistible  revo- 
lutionary enthusiasm.  As  soon  as  he  saw  that  a small 
newspaper,  which  Guillaume  began  to  edit  in  the  Jura  hills 
(at  Locle)  was  sounding  a new  note  of  independent  thought 
in  the  socialist  movement,  he  came  to  Locle,  talked  for 
whole  days  and  whole  nights  also  to  his  new  friends  about 
the  historical  necessity  of  a new  move  in  the  direction  of 
anarchy ; he  wrote  for  that  paper  a series  of  profound  and 
brilliant  articles  on  the  historical  progress  of  mankind  to- 
wards freedom  ; he  infused  enthusiasm  into  his  new  friends, 
and  he  created  that  centre  of  propaganda,  from  which  an- 
archism spread  later  on  to  other  parts  of  Europe. 

After  he  had  moved  to  Locarno,  — whence  he  started  a 
similar  movement  in  Italy,  and,  through  his  sympathetic 
and  gifted  emissary,  Fanelli,  also  in  Spain,  — the  work 
that  he  had  begun  in  the  Jura  hills  was  continued  inde- 
pendently by  the  Jurassians  themselves.  The  name  of 
“ Michel  ” often  recurred  in  their  conversations,  — not, 
however,  as  that  of  an  absent  chief  whose  opinions  were 
law,  but  as  that  of  a personal  friend  of  whom  every  one 
spoke  with  love,  in  a spirit  of  comradeship.  What  struck 
me  most  was  that  Bakunin’s  influence  was  felt  much  less 
as  the  influence  of  an  intellectual  authority  than  as  the 
influence  of  a moral  personality.  In  conversations  about 


INFLUENCE  OF  BAKUNIN 


289 


anarchism,  or  about  the  attitude  of  the  federation,  I never 
heard  it  said,  “ Bakunin  says  so,”  or  “Bakunin  thinks  so,”  as 
if  it  settled  the  question.  His  writings  and  his  sayings  were 
not  regarded  as  laws,  — as  is  unfortunately  often  the  case  in 
political  parties.  In  all  such  matters,  in  which  intellect  is 
the  supreme  judge,  every  one  in  discussion  used  his  own 
arguments.  Their  general  drift  and  tenor  might  have  been 
suggested  by  Bakunin,  or  Bakunin  might  have  borrowed 
them  from  his  J ura  friends ; at  any  rate,  in  each  individ- 
ual the  arguments  retained  their  own  individual  character. 
I only  once  heard  Bakunin’s  name  invoked  as  an  authority 
in  itself,  and  that  impressed  me  so  deeply  that  I even  now 
remember  the  spot  where  the  conversation  took  place  and 
all  the  surroundings.  Some  young  men  were  indulging  in 
talk  that  was  not  very  respectful  toward  the  other  sex, 
when  one  of  the  women  who  were  present  put  a sudden 
stop  to  it  by  exclaiming  : “ Pity  that  Michel  is  not  here  : 
he  would  put  you  in  your  place  ! ” The  colossal  figure  of 
the  revolutionist  who  had  given  up  everything  for  the  sake 
of  the  revolution,  and  lived  for  it  alone,  borrowing  from 
his  conception  of  it  the  highest  and  the  purest  views  of 
life,  continued  to  inspire  them. 

I returned  from  this  journey  with  distinct  sociological 
ideas  which  I have  retained  since,  doing  my  best  to  develop 
them  in  more  and  more  definite,  concrete  forms. 

There  was,  however,  one  point  which  I did  not  accept 
Without  having  given  to  it  a great  deal  of  thinking  and 
tnany  hours  of  my  nights.  I clearly  saw  that  the  immense 
change  which  would  deliver  everything  that  is  necessary 
for  life  and  production  into  the  hands  of  society  — be  it  the 
Folk  State  of  the  social  democrats  or  the  unions  of  freely 
associated  groups,  which  the  anarchists  advocate  — would 
imply  a revolution  far  more  profound  than  any  of  the  re- 
volutions which  history  had  on  record.  Moreover,  in  such 


290 


MEMOIRS  OF  A.  REVOLUTIONIST 


a revolution  the  workers  would  have  against  them,  not  the 
rotten  generation  of  aristocrats  against  whom  the  French 
peasants  and  republicans  had  to  fight  in  the  last  century, — 
and  even  that  fight  was  a desperate  one, — but  the  middle 
classes,  which  are  far  more  powerful,  intellectually  and 
physically,  and  have  at  their  service  all  the  potent  ma- 
chinery of  the  modern  state.  However,  I soon  noticed  that 
no  revolution,  whether  peaceful  or  violent,  had  ever  taken 
place  without  the  new  ideals  having  deeply  penetrated  into 
the  very  class  whose  economical  and  political  privileges 
were  to  be  assailed.  I had  witnessed  the  abolition  of  serf- 
dom in  Russia,  and  I knew  that  if  a consciousness  of  the 
injustice  of  their  privileges  had  not  spread  widely  within 
the  serf-owners’  class  itself  (as  a consequence  of  the  pre- 
vious evolution  and  revolutions  accomplished  in  Western 
Europe),  the  emancipation  of  the  serfs  would  never  have 
been  accomplished  as  easily  as  it  was  accomplisned  in  1861. 
And  I saw  that  the  idea  of  emancipating  the  workers  from 
the  present  wage-system  was  making  headway  amongst  the 
middle  classes  themselves.  The  most  ardent  defenders  of 
the  present  economical  conditions  had  already  abandoned  the 
idja  of  right  in  defending  their  present  privileges,  — ques- 
tions as  to  the  opportuneness  of  such  a change  having  al- 
ready taken  its  place.  They  did  not  deny  the  desirability 
of  some  such  change,  they  only  asked  whether  the  new 
economical  organization  advocated  by  the  socialists  would 
really  be  better  than  the  present  one ; whether  a society  in 
which  the  workers  would  have  a dominant  voice  would  be 
able  to  manage  production  better  than  the  individual  capi- 
talists actuated  by  mere  considerations  of  self-interest  man- 
age it  at  the  present  time. 

Besides,  I began  gradually  to  understand  that  revolu- 
tions — that  is,  periods  of  accelerated  rapid  evolution  and 
rapid  changes  — are  as  much  in  the  nature  of  human  so- 
ciety as  the  slow  evolution  which  incessantly  goes  on  now 


THE  PARIS  COMMUNE 


291 


among  the  civilized  races  of  mankind.  And  each  time  that 
such  a period  of  accelerated  evolution  and  reconstruction 
on  a grand  scale  begins,  civil  war  is  liable  to  break  out  on 
a small  or  large  scale.  The  question  is,  then,  not  so  much 
how  to  avoid  revolutions,  as  how  to  attain  the  greatest  re- 
sults with  the  most  limited  amount  of  civil  war,  the  smallest 
number  of  victims,  and  a minimum  of  mutual  embitterment. 
For  that  end  there  is  only  one  means  ; namely,  that  the 
oppressed  part  of  society  should  obtain  the  clearest  possible 
conception  of  what  they  intend  to  achieve,  and  how,  and 
that  they  should  be  imbued  with  the  enthusiasm  which  is 
necessary  for  that  achievement ; in  that  case  they  will  be 
sure  to  attach  to  their  cause  the  best  and  the  freshest  in- 
tellectual forces  of  the  privileged  class. 

The  Commune  of  Paris  was  a terrible  example  of  an 
outbreak  with  insufficiently  determined  ideals.  When  the 
workers  became,  in  March,  1871,  the  masters  of  the  great 
city,  they  did  not  attack  the  property  rights  vested  in  the 
middle  classes.  On  the  contrary,  they  took  these  rights 
under  their  protection.  The  leaders  of  the  Commune  cov- 
ered the  National  Bank  with  their  bodies,  and  notwith- 
standing the  crisis  which  had  paralyzed  industry  and  the 
consequent  absence  of  earnings  for  a mass  of  workers,  they 
protected  the  rights  of  the  owners  of  the  factories,  the  trade 
establishments,  and  the  dwelling-houses  at  Paris  with  their 
decrees.  However,  when  the  movement  was  crushed,  no 
account  was  taken  by  the  middle  classes  of  the  modesty  of 
the  communalistic  claims  of  the  insurgents.  Having  lived 
for  two  months  in  fear  that  the  workers  would  make  an 
assault  upon  their  property  rights,  the  rich  men  of  France 
took  upon  them  just  the  same  revenge  as  if  they  had  made 
the  assault  in  reality.  Nearly  thirty  thousand  of  them 
were  slaughtered,  as  is  known,  — not  in  battle,  but  after 
they  had  lost  the  battle.  If  they  had  taken  steps  towards 
the  socialization  of  property,  the  revenge  could  not  have 
been  more  terrible. 


292 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


If,  then,  — my  conclusion  was,  — there  are  periods  m 
human  development  when  a conflict  is  unavoidable,  and 
civil  war  breaks  out  quite  independently  of  the  will  of  par- 
ticular individuals,  — let,  at  least,  these  conflicts  take  place, 
not  on  the  ground  of  vague  aspirations,  but  upon  definite 
issues ; not  upon  secondary  points,  the  insignificance  of 
which  does  not  diminish  the  violence  of  the  conflict,  but 
upon  broad  ideas  which  inspire  men  by  the  grandness  of 
the  horizon  which  they  bring  into  view.  In  this  last  case 
the  conflict  itself  will  depend  much  less  upon  the  efficacy 
of  firearms  and  guns  than  upon  the  force  of  the  creative 
genius  which  will  be  brought  into  action  in  the  work  of 
reconstruction  of  Society.  It  will  depend  chiefly  upon  the 
constructive  forces  of  Society  taking  for  the  moment  a free 
course ; upon  the  inspirations  being  of  a higher  standard 
and  so  winning  more  sympathy  even  from  those  who,  as  a 
class,  are  opposed  to  the  change.  The  conflict,  being  thus 
engaged  on  larger  issues,  will  purify  the  social  atmosphere 
itself,  and  the  numbers  of  victims  on  both  sides  will  cer- 
tainly be  much  smaller  than  if  the  fight  is  over  matters  of 
secondary  importance  in  which  the  lower  instincts  of  men 
find  a free  play. 

With  these  ideas  I returned  to  Russia. 


XI 


During  my  journey  I had  bought  a number  of  books 
and  collections  of  socialist  newspapers.  In  Russia,  such 
books  were  “ unconditionally  prohibited  ” by  censorship ; 
and  some  of  the  collections  of  newspapers  and  reports  of 
international  congresses  could  not  be  bought  for  any  amount 
of  money,  even  in  Belgium.  “ Shall  I part  with  them, 
while  my  brother  and  my  friends  would  be  so  glad  to  have 
them  at  St.  Petersburg  ? ” I asked  myself ; and  I decided 
that  by  all  means  I must  get  them  into  Russia. 

I returned  to  St.  Petersburg  via  Vienna  and  Warsaw. 
Thousands  of  Jews  live  by  smuggling  on  the  Polish  from 
tier,  and  I thought  that  if  I could  succeed  in  discovering 
only  one  of  them,  my  books  would  be  carried  in  safety 
across  the  border.  However,  to  alight  at  a small  railway 
station  near  the  frontier,  while  every  other  passenger  went 
on,  and  to  hunt  there  for  smugglers,  would  hardly  have 
been  reasonable ; so  I took  a side  branch  of  the  railway  and 
went  to  Cracow.  “ The  capital  of  old  Poland  is  near  to 
the  frontier,”  I thought,  “ and  I shall  find  there  some  Jew 
who  will  lead  me  to  the  men  I seek.” 

I reached  the  once  renowned  and  brilliant  city  in  the 
evening,  and  early  next  morning  went  out  from  the  hotel 
on  my  search.  To  my  bewilderment  I saw,  however,  at 
every  street  corner  and  wherever  I turned  my  eyes  in  the 
otherwise  deserted  market-place,  a Jew,  wearing  the  tradi- 
tional long  dress  and  locks  of  his  forefathers,  and  watching 
there  for  some  Polish  nobleman  or  tradesman  who  might 
send  him  on  an  errand  and  pay  him  a few  coppers  for  the 
service.  I wanted  to  find  one  J ew ; and  now  there  were 


294 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


too  many  of  them.  Whom  should  I approach  ? I made 
the  round  of  the  town,  and  then,  in  my  despair,  I decided 
to  accost  the  Jew  who  stood  at  the  entrance  gate  of  my 
hotel,  — an  immense  old  palace,  of  which,  in  former  days, 
every  hall  was  filled  with  elegant  crowds  of  gayly  dressed 
dancers,  but  which  now  fulfilled  the  more  prosaic  function 
of  giving  food  and  shelter  to  a few  occasional  travelers.  I 
explained  to  the  man  my  desire  of  smuggling  into  Russia  a 
rather  heavy  bundle  of  books  and  newspapers. 

“Very  easily  done,  sir,”  he  replied.  “I  will  just  bring 
to  you  the  representative  of  the  Universal  Company  for  the 
International  Exchange  of  (let  me  say)  Rags  and  Bones. 
They  carry  on  the  largest  smuggling  business  in  the  world, 
and  he  is  sure  to  oblige  you.”  Half  an  hour  later  he  really 
returned  with  the  representative  of  the  company, — a most 
elegant  young  man,  who  spoke  in  perfection  Russian,  Ger- 
man, and  Polish. 

He  looked  at  my  bundle,  weighed  it  with  his  hands,  and 
asked  what  sort  of  books  were  in  it. 

“ All  severely  prohibited  by  Russian  censorship : that  is 
why  they  must  be  smuggled  in.” 

“ Books,”  he  said,  “ are  not  exactly  in  our  line  of  trade ; 
our  business  lies  in  costly  silks.  If  I were  going  to  pay  my 
men  by  weight,  according  to  our  silk  tariff,  I should  have 
to  ask  you  a quite  extravagant  price.  And  then,  to  tell 
the  truth,  I don’t  much  like  meddling  with  books.  The 
slightest  mishap,  and  ‘ they  ’ would  make  of  it  a political 
affair,  and  then  it  would  cost  the  Universal  Rags  and  Bones 
Company  a tremendous  sum  of  money  to  get  clear  of  it.” 

I probably  looked  very  sad,  for  the  elegant  young  man 
who  represented  the  Universal  Rags  and  Bones  Company 
immediately  added : “ Don’t  be  troubled.  He  [the  hotel 
commissionnaire]  will  arrange  it  for  you  in  some  other 
way.” 

“ Oh,  yes.  There  are  scores  of  ways  to  arrange  such  a 


SMUGGLING  BOOKS  INTO  RUSSIA  295 

trifle,  to  oblige  the  gentleman,”  jovially  remarked  the  com. 
missionnaire,  as  he  left  me. 

In  an  hour’s  time  he  came  back  with  another  young  man. 
This  one  took  the  bundle,  put  it  by  the  side  of  the  door, 
and  said : “ It ’s  all  right.  If  you  leave  to-morrow,  you 
shall  have  your  books  at  such  a station  in  Russia,”  and  he 
explained  to  me  how  it  would  be  managed. 

u How  much  will  it  cost  ? ” I asked. 

“ How  much  are  you  disposed  to  pay  ? ” was  the  reply. 

I emptied  my  purse  on  the  table,  and  said  : “ That  much 
for  my  journey.  The  remainder  is  yours.  I will  travel 
third  class  ! ” 

“ Wai,  wai,  wai ! ” exclaimed  both  men  at  once.  “ What 
are  you  saying,  sir  ? Such  a gentleman  travel  third  class  ! 
Never  ! No,  no,  no,  that  won’t  do.  . . . Five  dollars  will 
do  for  us,  and  then  one  dollar  or  so  for  the  commissionnaire, 
if  you  are  agreeable  to  it,  — just  as  much  as  you  like.  We 
are  not  highway  robbers,  but  honest  tradesmen.”  And 
they  bluntly  refused  to  take  more  money. 

I had  often  heard  of  the  honesty  of  the  Jewish  smugglers 
on  the  frontier ; but  I had  never  expected  to  have  such 
a proof  of  it.  Later  on,  when  our  circle  imported  many 
books  from  abroad,  or  still  later,  when  so  many  revolution- 
ists and  refugees  crossed  the  frontier  in  entering  or  leaving 
Russia,  there  was  not  a case  in  which  the  smugglers  be- 
trayed any  one,  or  took  advantage  of  circumstances  to  exact 
an  exorbitant  price  for  their  services. 

Next  day  I left  Cracow ; and  at  the  designated  Russian 
station  a porter  approached  my  compartment,  and,  speaking 
loudly,  so  as  to  be  heard  by  the  gendarme  who  was  walking 
along  the  platform,  said  to  me,  “ Here  is  the  bag  your  high- 
ness left  the  other  day,”  and  handed  me  my  precious  parcel. 

I was  so  pleased  to  have  it  that  I did  not  even  stop  at 
Warsaw,  but  continued  my  journey  directly  to  St.  Peters* 
burg,  to  show  my  trophies  to  my  brother. 


xn 


A formidable  movement  was  developing  in  the  mean- 
time amongst  the  educated  youth  of  Russia.  Serfdom  was 
abolished.  But  quite  a network  of  habits  and  customs  of 
domestic  slavery,  of  utter  disregard  of  human  individuality, 
of  despotism  on  the  part  of  the  fathers,  and  of  hypocritical 
submission  on  that  of  the  wives,  the  sons,  and  the  daugh- 
ters, had  developed  during  the  two  hundred  and  fifty  years 
that  serfdom  had  existed.  Everywhere  in  Europe,  at  the 
beginning  of  this  century,  there  was  a great  deal  of  domestic 
despotism,  — the  writings  of  Thackeray  and  Dickens  bear 
ample  testimony  to  it ; but  nowhere  else  had  that  tyranny 
attained  such  a luxurious  development  as  in  Russia.  All 
Russian  life,  in  the  family,  in  the  relations  between  com- 
mander and  subordinate,  military  chief  and  soldier,  employer 
and  employee,  bore  the  stamp  of  it.  Quite  a world  of  cus- 
toms and  manners  of  thinking,  of  prejudices  and  moral 
cowardice,  of  habits  bred  by  a lazy  existence,  had  grown  up. 
Even  the  best  men  of  the  time  paid  a large  tribute  to  these 
products  of  the  serfdom  period. 

Law  could  have  no  grip  upon  these  things.  Only  a vig- 
orous social  movement,  which  would  attack  the  very  roots 
of  the  evil,  could  reform  the  habits  and  customs  of  every- 
day life  ; and  in  Russia  this  movement  — this  revolt  of  the 
individual  — took  a far  more  powerful  character,  and  be- 
came far  more  sweeping  in  its  criticisms,  than  anywhere  in 
Western  Europe  or  America.  “Nihilism”  was  the  name 
that  Turgueneff  gave  it  in  his  epoch-making  novel,  “Fathers 
and  Sons.” 

The  movement  is  misunderstood  in  Western  Europe,  la 


NIHILISM 


297 


the  press,  for  example,  nihilism  is  continually  confused  with 
terrorism.  The  revolutionary  disturbance  which  broke  out 
in  Russia  toward  the  close  of  the  reign  of  Alexander  II., 
and  ended  in  the  tragical  death  of  the  Tsar,  is  constantly 
described  as  nihilism.  This  is,  however,  a mistake.  To 
confuse  nihilism  with  terrorism  is  as  wrong  as  to  confuse 
a philosophical  movement  like  stoicism  or  positivism  with  a 
political  movement  such  as,  for  example,  republicanism. 
Terrorism  was  called  into  existence  by  certain  special  con- 
ditions of  the  political  struggle  at  a given  historical  mo- 
ment. It  has  lived,  and  has  died.  It  may  revive  and  die 
out  again.  But  nihilism  has  impressed  its  stamp  upon  the 
whole  of  the  life  of  the  educated  classes  of  Russia,  and  that 
stamp  will  be  retained  for  many  years  to  come.  It  is  nihil- 
ism, divested  of  some  of  its  rougher  aspects,  — which  were 
unavoidable  in  a young  movement  of  that  sort,  — which 
gives  now  to  the  life  of  a great  portion  of  the  educated 
classes  of  Russia  a certain  peculiar  character  which  we  Rus- 
sians regret  not  to  find  in  the  life  of  Western  Europe.  It 
is  nihilism,  again,  in  its  various  manifestations,  which  gives 
to  many  of  our  writers  that  remarkable  sincerity,  that  habit 
of  “ thinking  aloud,”  which  astounds  Western  European 
readers. 

First  of  all,  the  nihilist  declared  war  upon  what  may  be 
described  as  “the  conventional  lies  of  civilized  mankind.” 
Absolute  sincerity  was  his  distinctive  feature,  and  in  the 
name  of  that  sincerity  he  gave  up,  and  asked  others  to  give 
up,  those  superstitions,  prejudices,  habits,  and  customs 
which  their  own  reason  could  not  justify.  He  refused  to 
bend  before  any  authority  except  that  of  reason,  and  in  the 
analysis  of  every  social  institution  or  habit  he  revolted 
against  any  sort  of  more  or  less  masked  sophism. 

He  broke,  of  course,  with  the  superstitions  of  his  fathers, 
and  in  his  philosophical  conceptions  he  was  a positivist,  an 
agnostic,  a Spencerian  evolutionist,  or  a scientific  materialist  | 


298 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


and  while  he  never  attacked  the  simple,  sincere  religious 
belief  which  is  a psychological  necessity  of  feeling,  he 
bitterly  fought  against  the  hypocrisy  that  leads  people  to 
assume  the  outward  mask  of  a religion  which  they  repeat- 
edly throw  aside  as  useless  ballast. 

The  life  of  civilized  people  is  full  of  little  conventional 
lies.  Persons  who  hate  each  other,  meeting  in  the  street, 
make  their  faces  radiant  with  a happy  smile  ; the  nihilist 
remained  unmoved,  and  smiled  only  for  those  whom  he  was 
really  glad  to  meet.  All  those  forms  of  outward  politeness 
which  are  mere  hypocrisy  were  equally  repugnant  to  him, 
and  he  assumed  a certain  external  roughness  as  a protest 
against  the  smooth  amiability  of  his  fathers.  He  saw  them 
wildly  talking  as  idealist  sentimentalists,  and  at  the  same 
time  acting  as  real  barbarians  toward  their  wives,  their  chil- 
dren, and  their  serfs  ; and  he  rose  in  revolt  against  that  sort 
of  sentimentalism  which,  after  all,  so  nicely  accommodated 
itself  to  the  anything  but  ideal  conditions  of  Russian  life. 
Art  was  involved  in  the  same  sweeping  negation.  Contin- 
ual talk  about  beauty,  the  ideal,  art  for  art’s  sake,  aesthetics, 
and  the  like,  so  willingly  indulged  in,  — while  every  object 
of  art  was  bought  with  money  exacted  from  starving  peas- 
ants or  from  underpaid  workers,  and  the  so-called  “ wor- 
ship of  the  beautiful  ” was  but  a mask  to  cover  the  most 
commonplace  dissoluteness,  — inspired  him  with  disgust, 
and  the  criticisms  of  art  which  Tolstdy,  one  of  the  greatest 
artists  of  the  century,  has  now  so  powerfully  formulated, 
the  nihilist  expressed  in  the  sweeping  assertion,  “ A pair  of 
hoots  is  more  important  than  all  your  Madonnas  and  all  your 
refined  talk  about  Shakespeare.” 

Marriage  without  love,  and  familiarity  without  friendship, 
were  equally  repudiated.  The  nihilist  girl,  compelled  by 
her  parents  to  he  a doll  in  a Doll’s  House,  and  to  marry 
for  property’s  sake,  preferred  to  abandon  her  house  and  hel 
silk  dresses.  She  put  on  a black  woolen  dress  of  the  plainest 


SINCERITY  OF  THE  NIHILISTS 


299 


description,  cut  off  her  hair,  and  went  to  a high  school,  in 
order  to  win  there  her  personal  independence.  The  woman 
who  saw  that  her  marriage  was  no  longer  a marriage,  that 
neither  love  nor  friendship  connected  those  who  were  legally 
considered  husband  and  wife,  preferred  to  break  a bond 
which  retained  none  of  its  essential  features.  Accordingly 
she  often  went  with  her  children  to  face  poverty,  preferring 
loneliness  and  misery  to  a life  which,  under  conventional  con- 
ditions, would  have  given  a perpetual  lie  to  her  best  self. 

The  nihilist  carried  his  love  of  sincerity  even  into  the 
minutest  details  of  every-day  life.  He  discarded  the  con- 
ventional forms  of  society  talk,  and  expressed  his  opinions 
in  a blunt  and  terse  way,  even  with  a certain  affectation  of 
outward  roughness. 

In  Irkutsk  we  used  to  meet  once  a week  in  a club  and 
have  some  dancing.  I was  for  a time  a regular  visitor  at 
these  soirees,  but  afterwards,  having  to  work,  I abandoned 
them.  One  night,  when  I had  not  made  my  appearance  for 
several  weeks,  a young  friend  of  mine  was  asked  by  one  of 
the  ladies  why  I did  not  appear  any  more  at  their  gath- 
erings. “ He  takes  a ride  now  when  he  wants  exercise,” 
was  the  rather  rough  reply  of  my  friend.  “ But  he  might 
come  and  spend  a couple  of  hours  with  us,  without  dancing,” 
one  of  the  ladies  ventured  to  say.  “What  would  he  do 
here  ? ” retorted  my  nihilist  friend  ; “ talk  with  you  about 
fashions  and  furbelows  ? He  has  had  enough  of  that  non- 
sense.” “ But  he  sees  Miss  So-and-So  occasionally,”  timidly 
remarked  one  of  the  young  ladies  present.  “Yes,  but  she 
is  a studious  girl,”  bluntly  replied  my  friend ; “ he  helps 
her  with  her  German.”  I must  add  that  this  undoubtedly 
rough  rebuke  had  its  effect,  for  most  of  the  Irkutsk  girls 
soon  began  to  besiege  my  brother,  my  friend,  and  myself 
with  questions  as  to  what  we  should  advise  them  to  read  or 
to  study. 


300 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


With  the  same  frankness  the  nihilist  spoke  to  his  ac- 
quaintances, telling  them  that  all  their  talk  about  “ this 
poor  people  ” was  sheer  hypocrisy  so  long  as  they  lived 
upon  the  underpaid  work  of  these  people  whom  they  com- 
miserated at  their  ease  as  they  chatted  together  in  richly 
decorated  rooms ; and  with  the  same  frankness  a nihilist 
would  declare  to  a high  functionary  that  the  latter  cared 
not  a straw  for  the  welfare  of  those  whom  he  ruled,  but 
was  simply  a thief,  and  so  on. 

With  a certain  austerity  the  nihilist  would  rebuke  the 
woman  who  indulged  in  small  talk  and  prided  herself  on 
her  “ womanly  ” manners  and  elaborate  toilette.  He  would 
bluntly  say  to  a pretty  young  person : “ How  is  it  that  you 
are  not  ashamed  to  talk  this  nonsense  and  to  wear  that 
chignon  of  false  hair  ? ” In  a woman  he  wanted  to  find  a 
comrade,  a human  personality,  — not  a doll  or  a “ muslin 
girl,”  — and  he  absolutely  refused  to  join  in  those  petty 
tokens  of  politeness  with  which  men  surround  those  whom 
they  like  so  much  to  consider  as  “ the  weaker  sex.”  When 
a lady  entered  a room  a nihilist  did  not  jump  from  his  seat 
to  offer  it  to  her,  unless  he  saw  that  she  looked  tired  and 
there  was  no  other  seat  in  the  room.  He  behaved  towards 
her  as  he  would  have  behaved  towards  a comrade  of  his  own 
sex  ; but  if  a lady  — who  might  have  been  a total  stranger 
to  him  — manifested  the  desire  to  learn  something  which 
he  knew  and  she  did  not,  he  would  walk  every  night  to 
the  far  end  of  a large  city  to  help  her. 

Two  great  Russian  novelists,  Turgu^neff  and  Goncharoff, 
have  tried  to  represent  this  new  type  in  their  novels.  Gon- 
charbff,  in  “ Precipice,”  taking  a real  but  unrepresentative 
individual  of  this  class,  made  a caricature  of  nihilism.  Tur- 
gueneff  was  too  good  an  artist,  and  had  himself  conceived 
too  much  admiration  for  the  new  type,  to  let  himself  be 
drawn  into  caricature  painting ; but  even  his  nihilist,  Baza- 
roff,  did  not  satisfy  us.  We  found  him  too  harsh,  especially 


ENTHUSIASM  IN  THE  WORK 


301 


in  his  relations  with  his  old  parents,  and,  above  all,  we 
reproached  him  with  his  seeming  neglect  of  his  duties  as 
a citizen.  Russian  youth  could  not  be  satisfied  with  the 
merely  negative  attitude  of  Turgueneff’s  hero.  Nihilism, 
with  its  affirmation  of  the  rights  of  the  individual  and  its 
negation  of  all  hypocrisy,  was  but  a first  step  toward  a higher 
type  of  men  and  women,  who  are  equally  free,  but  live  for 
a great  cause.  In  the  nihilists  of  Cherny  shevsky,  as  they' 
are  depicted  in  his  far  less  artistic  novel,  “ What  is  to  be 
Done  ? ” they  saw  better  portraits  of  themselves. 

“ It  is  bitter,  the  bread  that  has  been  made  by  slaves,” 
our  poet  Nekrasoff  wrote.  The  young  generation  actually 
refused  to  eat  that  bread,  and  to  enjoy  the  riches  that  had 
been  accumulated  in  their  fathers’  houses  by  means  of  servile 
labor,  whether  the  laborers  were  actual  serfs  or  slaves  of  the 
present  industrial  system. 

All  Russia  read  with  astonishment,  in  the  indictment 
which  was  produced  at  the  court  against  KarakozofF  and  his 
friends,  that  these  young  men,  owners  of  considerable  for- 
tunes, used  to  live  three  or  four  in  the  same  room,  never 
spending  more  than  five  dollars  apiece  a month  for  all  their 
needs,  and  giving  at  the  same  time  their  fortunes  for  start- 
ing cooperative  associations,  cooperative  workshops  (where 
they  themselves  worked),  and  the  like.  Five  years  later, 
thousands  and  thousands  of  the  Russian  youth  — the  best 
part  of  it  — were  doing  the  same.  Their  watchword  was, 
“ V nardd ! ” (To  the  people ; be  the  people.)  During 
the  years  1860-65,  in  nearly  every  wealthy  family  a bitter 
struggle  was  going  on  between  the  fathers,  who  wanted  to 
maintain  the  old  traditions,  and  the  sons  and  daughters, 
who  defended  their  right  to  dispose  of  their  lives  according 
to  their  own  ideals.  Young  men  left  the  military  service 
the  counter,  the  shop,  and  flocked  to  the  university  town 
Girls,  bred  in  the  most  aristocratic  families,  rushed  pen 


302 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


less  to  St.  Petersburg,  Moscow,  and  Ki'eff,  eager  to  learn  a 
profession  which  would  free  them  from  the  domestic  yoke, 
and  some  day,  perhaps,  also  from  the  possible  yoke  of  a 
husband.  After  hard  and  bitter  struggles,  many  of  them 
won  that  personal  freedom.  Now  they  wanted  to  utilize  it, 
not  for  their  own  personal  enjoyment,  but  for  carrying  to 
the  people  the  knowledge  that  had  emancipated  them. 

In  every  town  of  Russia,  in  every  quarter  of  St.  Peters- 
burg, small  groups  were  formed  for  self-improvement  and 
self-education ; the  works  of  the  philosophers,  the  writings 
of  the  economists,  the  historical  researches  of  the  young 
Russian  historical  school,  were  carefully  read  in  these 
circles,  and  the  reading  was  followed  by  endless  discussions. 
The  aim  of  all  that  reading  and  discussion  was  to  solve  the 
great  question  which  rose  before  them.  In  what  way  could 
they  be  useful  to  the  masses  ? Gradually,  they  came  to 
the  idea  that  the  only  way  was  to  settle  amongst  the  people, 
and  to  live  the  people’s  life.  Young  men  went  into  the 
villages  as  doctors,  doctors’  helpers,  teachers,  village  scribes, 
even  as  agricultural  laborers,  blacksmiths,  woodcutters,  and 
so  on,  and  tried  to  live  there  in  close  contact  with  the 
peasants.  Girls  passed  teachers’  examinations,  learned  mid- 
wifery or  nursing,  and  went  by  the  hundred  into  the  vil- 
lages, devoting  themselves  entirely  to  the  poorest  part  of 
the  population. 

These  people  went  without  any  ideal  of  social  recon- 
struction in  their  mind,  or  any  thought  of  revolution.  They 
simply  wanted  to  teach  the  mass  of  the  peasants  to  read,  to 
instruct  them  in  other  things,  to  give  them  medical  help, 
and  in  any  way  to  aid  in  raising  them  from  their  darkness 
and  misery,  and  to  learn  at  the  same  time  what  were  their 
popular  ideals  of  a better  social  life. 

When  I returned  from  Switzerland,  I found  this  move- 

ent  in  full  swing. 


xm 


I hastened  to  share  with  my  friends  my  impression# 
of  the  International  Workingmen’s  Association  and  my 
books.  At  the  university  I had  no  friends,  properly 
speaking ; I was  older  than  most  of  my  companions,  and 
among  young  people  a difference  of  a few  years  is  always 
an  obstacle  to  complete  comradeship.  It  must  also  he  said 
that  since  the  new  rules  of  admission  to  the  university  had 
been  introduced  in  1861,  the  best  of  the  young  men  — the 
most  developed  and  the  most  independent  in  thought  — 
were  sifted  out  of  the  gymnasia,  and  did  not  gain  admit- 
tance  to  the  university.  Consequently,  the  majority  of  m^ 
comrades  were  good  boys,  laborious,  but  taking  no  interest 
in  anything  besides  the  examinations.  I was  friendly  with 
only  one  of  them : let  me  call  him  Dmitri  Kelnitz. 
was  born  in  South  Russia,  and  although  his  name  was 
German,  he  hardly  spoke  German,  and  his  face  was  South 
Russian  rather  than  Teutonic.  He  was  very  intelligent, 
had  read  a great  deal,  and  had  seriously  thought  over  what 
he  had  read.  He  loved  science  and  deeply  respected  it, 
but,  like  many  of  us,  he  soon  came  to  the  conclusion  that 
to  follow  the  career  of  a scientific  man  meant  to  join  the 
camp  of  the  Philistines,  and  that  there  was  plenty  of  other 
and  more  urgent  work  that  he  could  do.  He  attended  the 
university  lectures  for  two  years,  and  then  abandoned  them, 
giving  himself  entirely  to  social  work.  He  lived  anyhow  ; 
J.  even  doubt  if  he  had  a permanent  lodging.  Sometimes 
he  would  come  to  me  and  ask,  “ Have  you  some  paper  ? ” 
and  having  taken  a supply  of  it,  he  would  sit  at  the  corner 
of  a table  for  an  hour  or  two,  diligently  making  a transla 


304 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


tion.  The  little  that  he  earned  in  this  way  was  more  than 
sufficient  to  satisfy  all  his  limited  wants.  Then  he  would 
hurry  to  a distant  part  of  the  town  to  see  a comrade  or  to 
help  a needy  friend ; or  he  would  cross  St.  Petersburg  on 
foot,  to  a remote  suburb,  in  order  to  obtain  free  admission 
to  a college  for  some  boy  in  whom  the  comrades  were 
interested.  He  was  undoubtedly  a gifted  man.  In  West- 
ern Europe  a man  far  less  gifted  would  have  worked  his 
way  to  a position  of  political  or  socialist  leadership.  No 
such  thought  ever  entered  the  brain  of  Kelnitz.  To  lead 
men  was  by  no  means  his  ambition,  and  there  was  no  work 
too  insignificant  for  him  to  do.  This  trait,  however,  was 
not  distinctive  of  him  alone ; all  those  who  had  lived  some 
years  in  the  students’  circles  of  those  times  were  possessed 
of  it  to  a high  degree. 

Soon  after  my  return  Kelnitz  invited  me  to  join  a circle 
which  was  known  amongst  the  youth  as  “ the  Circle  of 
Tchaykovsky.”  Under  this  name  it  played  an  important 
part  in  the  history  of  the  social  movement  in  Russia,  and 
under  this  name  it  will  go  down  to  history.  “ Its  mem- 
bers,” Kelnitz  said  to  me,  “ have  hitherto  been  mostly 
constitutionalists ; but  they  are  excellent  men,  with  minds 
open  to  any  honest  idea ; they  have  plenty  of  friends  all 
over  Russia,  and  you  will  see  later  on  what  you  can  do.” 
I already  knew  Tchaykovsky,  and  a few  other  members  of 
this  circle.  Tchaykovsky  had  won  my  heart  at  our  first 
meeting,  and  our  friendship  has  remained  unshaken  for 
twenty-seven  years. 

The  beginning  of  this  circle  was  a very  small  group  of 
young  men  and  women,  — one  of  whom  was  Sophie  Pe- 
rovskaya,  — who  had  united  for  purposes  of  self-education 
and  self-improvement.  Tchaykovsky  was  of  their  number. 
In  1869  Nechaieff  had  tried  to  start  a secret  revolution- 
ary organization  among  the  youth  imbued  with  the  before- 
mentioned  desire  of  working  among  the  people,  and  to  secure 


THE  CIRCLE  OF  TCHAYKOVSKY 


305 


this  end  he  resorted  to  the  ways  of  old  conspirators,  with- 
out recoiling  even  before  deceit  when  he  wanted  to  force 
his  associates  to  follow  his  lead.  Such  methods  could  have 
no  success  in  Russia,  and  very  soon  his  society  broke  down. 
All  the  members  were  arrested,  and  some  of  the  best  and 
purest  of  the  Russian  youth  went  to  Siberia  before  they 
had  done  anything.  The  circle  of  self-education  of  which 
I am  speaking  was  constituted  in  opposition  to  the  methods 
of  Nechaieff.  The  few  friends  had  judged,  quite  correctly, 
that  a morally  developed  individuality  must  be  the  founda- 
tion of  every  organization,  whatever  political  character  it 
may  take  afterward,  and  whatever  programme  of  action 
it  may  adopt  in  the  course  of  future  events.  This  was 
why  the  Circle  of  Tchaykdvsky,  gradually  widening  its 
programme,  spread  so  extensively  in  Russia,  achieved  such 
important  results,  and  later  on,  when  the  ferocious  prosecu- 
tions of  the  government  created  a revolutionary  struggle, 
produced  that  remarkable  set  of  men  and  women  who  fell 
in  the  terrible  contest  they  waged  against  autocracy. 

At  that  time,  however,  — that  is,  in  1872,  — the  circle 
had  nothing  revolutionary  in  it.  If  it  had  remained  a 
mere  circle  of  self-improvement,  it  would  soon  have  petri- 
fied, like  a monastery.  But  the  members  found  a suitable 
work.  They  began  to  spread  good  books.  They  bought 
the  works  of  Lassalle,  Bervi  (on  the  condition  of  the  labor- 
ing classes  in  Russia),  Marx,  Russian  historical  works,  and 
so  on,  — whole  editions,  — and  distributed  them  among 
students  in  the  provinces.  In  a few  years  there  was  not 
a town  of  importance  in  “ thirty-eight  provinces  of  the 
Russian  Empire,”  to  use  official  language,  where  this  circle 
did  not  have  a group  of  comrades  engaged  in  the  spreading 
of  that  sort  of  literature.  Gradually,  following  the  general 
drift  of  the  times,  and  stimulated  by  the  news  which  came 
from  Western  Europe  about  the  rapid  growth  of  the  labor 
movement,  the  circle  became  more  and  more  a centre  of 


306 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


socialistic  propaganda  among  the  educated  youth,  and  a 
natural  intermediary  between  members  of  provincial  circles ; 
and  then,  one  day,  the  ice  between  students  and  workers 
was  broken,  and  direct  relations  were  established  with 
working-people  at  St.  Petersburg  and  in  some  of  the  pro- 
vinces. It  was  at  that  juncture  that  I joined  the  circle,  in 
the  spring  of  1872. 

All  secret  societies  are  fiercely  prosecuted  in  Russia,  and 
the  Western  reader  will  perhaps  expect  from  me  a descrip- 
tion of  my  initiation  and  of  the  oath  of  allegiance  which 
I took.  I must  disappoint  him,  because  there  was  nothing 
of  the  sort,  and  could  not  be ; we  should  have  been  the 
first  to  laugh  at  such  ceremonies,  and  Kelnitz  would  not 
have  missed  the  opportunity  of  putting  in  one  of  his  sar- 
castic remarks,  which  would  have  killed  any  ritual.  There 
was  not  even  a statute.  The  circle  accepted  as  members 
only  persons  who  were  well  known  and  had  been  tested  in 
various  circumstances,  and  of  whom  it  was  felt  that  they 
could  be  trusted  absolutely.  Before  a new  member  was 
received,  his  character  was  discussed  with  the  frankness 
and  seriousness  which  were  characteristic  of  the  nihilist. 
The  slightest  token  of  insincerity  or  conceit  would  have 
barred  the  way  to  admission.  The  circle  did  not  care  to 
make  a show  of  numbers,  and  had  no  tendency  to  concen- 
trate in  its  hands  all  the  activity  that  was  going  on  amongst 
the  youth,  or  to  include  in  one  organization  the  scores  of 
different  circles  which  existed  in  the  capitals  and  the 
provinces.  With  most  of  them  friendly  relations  were 
maintained ; they  were  helped,  and  they  helped  us,  when 
necessity  arose,  but  no  assault  was  made  on  their  autonomy. 

The  circle  preferred  to  remain  a closely  united  group  of 
friends ; and  never  did  I meet  elsewhere  such  a collection 
of  morally  superior  men  and  women  as  the  score  of  persons 
whose  acquaintance  I made  at  the  first  meeting  of  the 
Circle  of  Tchaykdvsky.  I still  feel  proud  of  having  been 
received  into  that  family. 


xrv 


When  I joined  the  Circle  of  Tchaykdvsky,  I found  its 
members  hotly  discussing  the  direction  to  be  given  to  their 
activity.  Some  were  in  favor  of  continuing  to  carry  on  rad- 
ical and  socialistic  propaganda  among  the  educated  youth; 
but  others  thought  that  the  sole  aim  of  this  work  should  be 
to  prepare  men  who  would  be  capable  of  arousing  the  great 
inert  laboring  masses,  and  that  their  chief  activity  ought  to 
be  among  the  peasants  and  workmen  in  the  towns.  In  all 
the  circles  and  groups  which  were  formed  at  that  time  by 
the  hundred,  at  St.  Petersburg  and  in  the  provinces,  the 
same  discussions  went  on ; and  everywhere  the  second  pro- 
gramme prevailed  over  the  first. 

If  our  youth  had  merely  taken  to  socialism  in  the  abstract, 
they  might  have  felt  satisfied  with  a simple  declaration  of 
socialist  principles,  including  as  a distant  aim  “ the  com- 
munistic possession  of  the  instruments  of  production,”  — 
and  in  the  meantime  they  might  have  carried  on  some  sort 
of  political  agitation.  Many  middle-class  socialist  poli- 
ticians in  Western  Europe  and  America  really  take  this 
course.  But  our  youth  had  been  drawn  to  socialism  in 
quite  another  way.  They  were  not  theorists  about  social- 
ism, but  had  become  socialists  by  living  no  better  than  the 
workers  live,  by  making  no  distinction  between  “ mine  and 
thine  " in  their  circles,  and  by  refusing  to  enjoy  for  their 
own  satisfaction  the  riches  they  had  inherited  from  their 
fathers.  They  had  done  with  regard  to  capitalism  what 
Tolstdy  urges  should  be  done  with  regard  to  war,  when 
he  calls  upon  the  people,  instead  of  criticising  war  and 
continuing  to  wear  the  military  uniform,  to  refuse,  each  one 


308 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


for  himself,  to  be  a soldier  and  to  bear  arms.  In  this 
same  way  our  Russian  youth,  each  one  for  himself  or  her- 
self, refused  to  take  personal  advantage  of  the  revenues  of 
their  fathers.  It  was,  of  course,  necessary  that  they  should 
identify  themselves  with  the  people.  Thousands  and  thou- 
sands of  young  men  and  women  had  already  left  their 
houses,  and  now  they  tried  to  live  in  the  villages  and  the 
industrial  towns  in  all  possible  capacities.  This  was  not  an 
organized  movement : it  was  one  of  those  mass  movements 
which  occur  at  certain  periods  of  sudden  awakening  of 
human  conscience.  Now  that  small  organized  groups  were 
formed,  ready  to  try  a systematic  effort  for  spreading  ideas 
of  freedom  and  revolt  in  Russia,  they  were  forced  to  carry 
on  that  propaganda  among  the  masses  of  the  peasants  and 
of  the  workers  in  the  towns.  Various  writers  have  tried  to 
explain  this  movement  “ to  the  people  ” by  influences  from 
abroad:  “ foreign  agitators  are  everywhere,”  was  a favorite 
explanation.  It  is  certainly  true  that  our  youth  listened  to 
the  mighty  voice  of  Bakunin,  and  that  the  agitation  of  the 
International  Workingmen’s  Association  had  a fascinating 
effect  upon  us.  But  the  movement  had  a far  deeper  origin  : 
it  began  before  “ foreign  agitators  ” had  spoken  to  the  Rus- 
sian youth,  and  even  before  the  International  Association 
had  been  founded.  It  was  beginning  in  the  groups  of 
Karakozoff  in  1866  ; Turgueneflf  saw  it  coming,  and  already 
in  1859  faintly  indicated  it.  I did  my  best  to  promote  that 
movement  in  the  Circle  of  Tchaykdvsky ; hut  I was  only 
working  with  the  tide  which  was  infinitely  more  powerful 
than  any  individual  efforts. 

We  often  spoke,  of  course,  of  the  necessity  of  a political 
agitation  against  our  absolute  government.  We  saw  already 
that  the  mass  of  the  peasants  were  being  driven  to  unavoid- 
able and  irremediable  ruin  by  foolish  taxation,  and  by  still 
more  foolish  selling  off  of  their  cattle  to  cover  the  arrears  of 
taxes.  We  “ visionaries  ” saw  coming  that  complete  ruin 


NEED  OF  POLITICAL  AGITATION 


309 


of  a whole  population  which  by  this  time,  alas,  has  been 
accomplished  to  an  appalling  extent  in  Central  Russia,  and 
is  confessed  by  the  government  itself.  We  knew  how,  in 
every  direction,  Russia  was  being  plundered  in  a most 
scandalous  manner.  We  knew,  and  we  learned  more  every 
day,  of  the  lawlessness  of  the  functionaries,  and  the  almost 
incredible  bestiality  of  many  among  them.  We  heard  con- 
tinually of  friends  whose  houses  were  raided  at  night  by  the 
police,  who  disappeared  in  prisons,  and  who  — we  ascer- 
tained later  on  — had  been  transported  without  judgment 
to  hamlets  in  some  remote  province  of  Russia.  We  felt, 
therefore,  the  necessity  of  a political  struggle  against  this 
terrible  power,  which  was  crushing  the  best  intellectual 
forces  of  the  nation.  But  we  saw  no  possible  ground,  legal 
or  semi-legal,  for  such  a struggle. 

Our  elder  brothers  did  not  want  our  socialistic  aspirations, 
and  we  could  not  part  with  them.  Nay,  even  if  some  of  us 
had  done  so,  it  would  have  been  of  no  avail.  The  young 
generation,  as  a whole,  were  treated  as  “ suspects,”  and  the 
elder  generation  feared  to  have  anything  to  do  with  them. 
Every  young  man  of  democratic  tastes,  every  young  woman 
following  a course  of  higher  education,  was  a suspect  in  the 
eyes  of  the  state  police,  and  was  denounced  by  Katkoff  as 
an  enemy  of  the  state.  Cropped  hair  and  blue  spectacles 
worn  by  a girl,  a Scotch  plaid  worn  in  winter  by  a student, 
instead  of  an  overcoat,  which  were  evidences  of  nihilist  sim- 
plicity and  democracy,  were  denounced  as  tokens  of  “ po- 
litical unreliability.”  If  any  student’s  lodging  came  to  be 
frequently  visited  by  other  students,  it  was  periodically 
invaded  by  the  state  police  and  searched.  So  common  were 
the  night  raids  in  certain  students’  lodgings  that  Kelnitz 
ence  said,  in  his  mildly  humorous  way,  to  the  police  officer 
who  was  searching  the  rooms  : “ Why  should  you  go  through 
all  our  books,  each  time  you  come  to  make  a search  ? You 
might  as  well  have  a list  of  them,  and  then  come  once  a 


310 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


month  to  see  if  they  are  all  on  the  shelves ; and  you  might, 
from  time  to  time,  add  the  titles  of  the  new  ones.”  The 
slightest  suspicion  of  political  unreliability  was  sufficient 
ground  upon  which  to  take  a young  man  from  a high  school, 
to  imprison  him  for  several  months,  and  finally  to  send  him 
to  some  remote  province  of  the  Urals,  — “ for  an  undeter- 
mined term,”  as  they  used  to  say  in  their  bureaucratic  slang. 
Even  at  the  time  when  the  Circle  of  Tchaykovsky  did 
nothing  but  distribute  books,  all  of  which  had  been  printed 
with  the  censor’s  approval,  Tchaykovsky  was  twice  arrested 
and  kept  some  four  or  six  months  in  prison  ; on  the  second 
occasion  at  a critical  time  of  his  career  as  a chemist.  His 
researches  had  recently  been  published  in  the  “ Bulletin  of 
the  Academy  of  Sciences,”  and  he  had  come  up  for  his  final 
university  examinations.  He  was  released  at  last,  because 
the  police  could  not  discover  sufficient  evidence  against  him 
to  warrant  his  transportation  to  the  Urals!  “But  if  we 
arrest  you  once  more,”  he  was  told,  “ we  shall  send  you  to 
Siberia.”  In  fact,  it  was  a favorite  dream  of  Alexander  IL 
to  have  somewhere  in  the  steppes  a special  town,  guarded 
night  and  day  by  patrols  of  Cossacks,  where  all  suspected 
young  people  could  be  sent,  so  as  to  make  of  them  a city 
of  ten  or  twenty  thousand  inhabitants.  Only  the  menace 
which  such  a city  might  some  day  offer  prevented  him  from 
carrying  out  this  truly  Asiatic  scheme. 

One  of  our  members,  an  officer,  had  belonged  to  a group 
of  young  men  whose  ambition  was  to  serve  in  the  pro- 
vincial Zemstvos  (district  and  county  councils).  They 
regarded  work  in  this  direction  as  a high  mission,  and 
prepared  themselves  for  it  by  serious  studies  of  the  eco- 
nomical conditions  of  Central  Russia.  Many  young  people 
therished  for  a time  the  same  hopes  ; but  all  these  hopes 
vanished  at  the  first  contact  with  the  actual  government 
machinery. 


OFFICIAL  REFORMS  USELESS 


311 


Having  granted  a very  limited  form  of  self-government 
to  certain  provinces  of  Russia,  the  government  immediately 
directed  all  its  efforts  to  reducing  that  reform  to  nothing 
by  depriving  it  of  all  its  meaning  and  vitality.  The 
provincial  “ self-government  ” had  to  content  itself  with 
the  mere  function  of  state  officials  who  would  collect 
additional  local  taxes  and  spend  them  for  the  local  needs 
of  the  state.  Every  attempt  of  the  county  councils  to 
take  the  initiative  in  any  improvement  — schools,  teachers’ 
colleges,  sanitary  measures,  agricultural  improvements,  etc. 
— was  met  by  the  central  government  with  suspicion,  with 
hostility,  — and  denounced  by  the  “ Moscow  Gazette  ” as 
“separatism,”  as  the  creation  of  “a  state  within  the  state,” 
as  rebellion  against  autocracy. 

If  any  one  were  to  tell  the  true  history,  for  example,  of 
the  teachers’  college  of  Tver,  or  of  any  similar  undertaking 
of  a Zemstvo  in  those  years,  with  all  the  petty  persecutions, 
the  prohibitions,  the  suspensions,  and  what  not  with  which 
the  institution  was  harassed,  no  West  European,  and  espe- 
cially no  American  reader,  would  believe  it.  He  would 
throw  the  book  aside,  saying,  “ It  cannot  be  true ; it  is  too 
stupid  to  be  true.”  And  yet  it  was  so.  Whole  groups  of 
the  elected  representatives  of  several  Zemstvos  were  de- 
prived of  their  functions,  ordered  to  leave  their  province 
and  their  estates,  or  were  simply  exiled,  for  having  dared 
to  petition  the  Emperor  in  the  most  loyal  manner  concern- 
ing such  rights  as  belonged  to  the  Zemstvos  by  law.  “ The 
elected  members  of  the  provincial  councils  must  be  simple 
ministerial  functionaries,  and  obey  the  minister  of  the  in- 
terior : ” such  was  the  theory  of  the  St.  Petersburg  govern- 
ment. As  to  the  less  prominent  people,  — teachers,  doc- 
tors, and  the  like,  in  the  service  of  the  local  councils,  — 
they  were  removed  and  exiled  by  the  state  police  in  twenty- 
four  hours,  without  further  ceremony  than  an  order  of  the 
omnipotent  Third  Section  of  the  imperial  chancelry.  No 


312 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


longer  ago  than  last  year,  a lady  whose  husband  is  a rich 
landowner  and  occupies  a prominent  position  in  one  of  the 
Zemstvos,  and  who  is  herself  interested  in  education,  in- 
vited eight  schoolmasters  to  her  birthday  party.  “ Poor 
men,”  she  said  to  herself,  “ they  never  have  the  opportunity 
of  seeing  any  one  but  the  peasants.”  The  day  after  the 
party,  the  village  policeman  called  at  the  mansion  and  in- 
sisted upon  having  the  names  of  the  eight  teachers,  in  order 
to  report  them  to  the  police  authorities.  The  lady  refused 
to  give  the  names.  “ Very  well,”  he  replied,  “ I will  find 
them  out,  nevertheless,  and  make  my  report.  Teachers 
must  not  come  together,  and  I am  bound  to  report  if  they 
do.”  The  high  position  of  the  lady  sheltered  the  teachers, 
in  this  case ; but  if  they  had  met  in  the  lodgings  of  one  of 
their  own  number,  they  would  have  received  a visit  from 
the  state  police,  and  half  of  them  would  have  been  dis- 
missed by  the  ministry  of  education  ; and  if,  moreover,  an 
angry  word  had  escaped  from  one  of  them  during  the  police 
raid,  he  or  she  would  have  been  sent  to  some  province  of 
the  Urals.  This  is  what  happens  to-day,  thirty-three  years 
after  the  opening  of  the  county  and  district  councils ; but  it 
was  far  worse  in  the  seventies.  What  sort  of  basis  for  a 
political  struggle  could  such  institutions  offer  ? 

When  I inherited  from  my  father  his  Tambdv  estate,  I 
thought  very  seriously  for  a time  of  settling  on  that  estate, 
and  devoting  my  energy  to  work  in  the  local  Zemstvo. 
Some  peasants  and  the  poorer  priests  of  the  neighborhood 
asked  me  to  do  so.  As  for  myself,  I should  have  been 
content  with  anything  I could  do,  no  matter  how  small 
it  might  be,  if  only  it  would  help  to  raise  the  intellectual 
level  and  the  well-being  of  the  peasants.  But  one  day, 
when  several  of  my  advisers  were  together,  I asked  them : 
“ Supposing  I were  to  try  to  start  a school,  an  experimen- 
tal farm,  a cooperative  enterprise,  and,  at  the  same  time, 
also  took  upon  myself  the  defense  of  that  peasant  from  our 


PLANS  FOR  A CONSTITUTION 


313 


village  who  has  lately  been  wronged,  — would  the  authori- 
ties let  me  do  it  ? ” “ Never  1 ” was  the  unanimous 

reply. 

An  old  gray-haired  priest,  a man  who  was  held  in  great 
esteem  in  our  neighborhood,  came  to  me,  a few  days  later, 
with  two  influential  dissenting  leaders,  and  said : “ Talk 
with  these  two  men.  If  you  can  manage  it,  go  with  them 
and,  Bible  in  hand,  preach  to  the  peasants.  . . . Well, 
you  know  what  to  preach.  . . . No  police  in  the  world 
will  find  you,  if  they  conceal  you.  . . . There ’s  nothing  to 
he  done  besides  ; that ’s  what  I,  an  old  man,  advise  you.” 

I told  them  frankly  why  I could  not  assume  the  part  of 
Wiclif.  But  the  old  man  was  right.  A movement  similar 
to  that  of  the  Lollards  is  rapidly  growing  now  amongst  the 
Russian  peasants.  Such  tortures  as  have  been  inflicted  on 
the  peace-loving  Dukhobdrs,  and  such  raids  upon  the  peas- 
ant dissenters  in  South  Russia  as  were  made  in  1897,  when 
children  were  kidnapped  so  that  they  might  be  educated  in 
orthodox  monasteries,  will  only  give  to  that  movement  a 
force  that  it  could  not  have  attained  five-and-twenty  years 
ago. 

As  the  question  of  agitation  for  a constitution  was  con- 
tinually being  raised  in  our  discussions,  I once  proposed  to 
our  circle  to  take  it  up  seriously,  and  to  choose  an  appro- 
priate plan  of  action.  I was  always  of  the  opinion  that 
when  the  circle  decided  anything  unanimously,  each  member 
ought  to  put  aside  his  personal  feeling  and  give  all  his 
strength  to  the  task.  “ If  you  decide  to  agitate  for  a con- 
stitution,” I said,  “ this  is  my  plan  : I will  separate  myself 
from  you,  for  appearance’  sake,  and  maintain  relations  with 
only  one  member  of  the  circle,  — for  instance,  Tchaykdv- 
sky,  — through  whom  I shall  be  kept  informed  how  you 
succeed  in  your  work,  and  can  communicate  to  you  in  a 
general  way  what  I am  doing.  My  work  will  be  among 


S14 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


the  courtiers  and  the  higher  functionaries.  I have  among 
them  many  acquaintances,  and  know  a number  of  persons 
who  are  disgusted  with  the  present  conditions.  I will 
bring  them  together  and  unite  them,  if  possible,  into  a sort 
of  organization ; and  then,  some  day,  there  is  sure  to  be  an 
opportunity  to  direct  all  these  forces  toward  compelling 
Alexander  II.  to  give  Russia  a constitution.  There  cer- 
tainly will  come  a time  when  all  these  people,  feeling  that 
they  are  compromised,  will  in  their  own  interest  take  a de- 
cisive step.  If  it  is  necessary,  some  of  us,  who  have  been 
officers,  might  be  very  helpful  in  extending  the  propaganda 
amongst  the  officers  in  the  army  ; but  this  action  must  be 
quite  separate  from  yours,  though  parallel  with  it.  I have 
seriously  thought  of  it.  I know  what  connections  I have 
and  who  can  be  trusted,  and  I believe  some  of  the  discon- 
tented already  look  upon  me  as  a possible  centre  for  some 
action  of  this  sort.  This  course  is  not  the  one  I should 
take  of  my  own  choice ; but  if  you  think  that  it  is  best, 
I will  give  myself  to  it  with  might  and  main.” 

The  circle  did  not  accept  that  proposal.  Kinowing  one 
another  as  well  as  they  did,  my  comrades  probably  thought 
that  if  I went  in  this  direction  I should  cease  to  be  true  to 
myself.  For  my  own  personal  happiness,  for  my  own  per- 
sonal life,  I cannot  feel  too  grateful  now  that  my  proposal 
was  not  accepted.  I should  have  gone  in  a direction  which 
was  not  the  one  dictated  by  my  own  nature,  and  I should 
not  have  found  in  it  the  personal  happiness  which  I have 
found  in  other  paths.  But  when,  six  or  seven  years  later, 
the  terrorists  were  engaged  in  their  terrible  struggle  against 
Alexander  II.,  I regretted  that  there  had  not  been  some- 
body else  to  do  the  sort  of  work  I had  proposed  to  do  in 
the  higher  circles  at  St.  Petersburg.  With  some  under- 
standing there  beforehand,  and  with  the  ramifications  which 
such  an  understanding  probably  would  have  taken  all  over 
the  empire,  the  holocausts  of  victims  would  not  have  been 


PROTECTING  THE  TSAR 


315 


made  in  vain.  At  any  rate,  the  underground  work  of  the 
executive  committee  ought  by  all  means  to  have  been  sup- 
ported by  a parallel  agitation  at  the  Winter  Palace. 

Over  and  over  again  the  necessity  of  a political  effort 
thus  came  under  discussion  in  our  little  group,  with  no 
result.  The  apathy  and  the  indifference  of  the  wealthier 
classes  were  hopeless,  and  the  irritation  among  the  perse- 
cuted youth  had  not  yet  been  brought  to  that  high  pitch 
which  ended,  six  years  later,  in  the  struggle  of  the  terror- 
ists under  the  executive  committee.  Nay,  — and  this  is 
one  of  the  most  tragical  ironies  of  history,  — it  was  the 
same  youth  whom  Alexander  II.,  in  his  blind  fear  and 
fury,  ordered  to  be  sent  by  the  hundred  to  hard  labor  and 
condemned  to  slow  death  in  exile ; it  was  the  same  youth 
who  protected  him  in  1871-78.  The  very  teachings  of 
the  socialist  circles  were  such  as  to  prevent  the  repetition 
of  a Karakdzoff  attempt  on  the  Tsar’s  life.  “ Prepare  in 
Russia  a great  socialist  mass  movement  amongst  the  work- 
ers and  the  peasants,”  was  the  watchword  in  those  times. 
“ Don’t  trouble  about  the  Tsar  and  his  counselors.  If  such 
a movement  begins,  if  the  peasants  join  in  the  mass  move- 
ment to  claim  the  land  and  to  abolish  the  serfdom  redemp- 
tion taxes,  the  imperial  power  will  be  the  first  to  seek 
support  in  the  moneyed  classes  and  the  landlords  and  to 
convoke  a Parliament,  — just  as  the  peasant  insurrection 
in  France,  in  1789,  compelled  the  royal  power  to  convoke 
the  National  Assembly  ; so  it  will  be  in  Russia.” 

But  there  was  more  than  that.  Separate  men  and 
groups,  seeing  that  the  reign  of  Alexander  II.  was  hope- 
lessly doomed  to  sink  deeper  and  deeper  in  reaction,  and 
entertaining  at  the  same  time  vague  hopes  as  to  the  sup- 
posed “ liberalism  ” of  the  heir  apparent,  — all  young  heirs 
to  thrones  are  supposed  to  be  liberal,  — persistently  reverted 
to  the  idea  that  the  example  of  Karakdzoff  ought  to  be 


316 


MEMOIRS  OP  A REVOLUTIONIST 


followed.  The  organized  circles,  however,  strenuously  op- 
posed such  an  idea,  and  urged  their  comrades  not  to  resort 
to  that  course  of  action.  I may  now  divulge  the  following 
fact  which  has  never  before  been  made  public.  When  a 
young  man  came  to  St.  Petersburg  from  one  of  the  southern 
provinces  with  the  firm  intention  of  killing  Alexander  II., 
and  some  members  of  the  Tchaykbvsky  circle  learned  of 
his  plan,  they  not  only  applied  all  the  weight  of  their  argu- 
ments to  dissuade  the  young  man,  but,  when  he  would  not 
be  dissuaded,  they  informed  him  that  they  would  keep  a 
watch  over  him  and  prevent  him  by  force  from  making 
any  such  attempt.  Knowing  well  how  loosely  guarded  the 
Winter  Palace  was  at  that  time,  I can  positively  say  that 
they  saved  the  life  of  Alexander  II.  So  firmly  were  the 
youth  opposed  at  that  time  to  the  war  in  which  later,  when 
the  cup  of  their  sufferings  was  filled  to  overflowing,  they 
took  part. 


XV 


The  two  years  that  I worked  with  the  Circle  of  Tchay- 
kdvsky,  before  I was  arrested,  left  a deep  impression  upon 
all  my  subsequent  life  and  thought.  During  these  two 
years  it  was  life  under  high  pressure,  — that  exuberance  of 
life  when  one  feels  at  every  moment  the  full  throbbing  of 
all  the  fibres  of  the  inner  self,  and  when  life  is  really  worth 
living.  I was  in  a family  of  men  and  women  so  closely 
united  by  their  common  object,  and  so  broadly  and  deli- 
cately humane  in  their  mutual  relations,  that  I cannot  now 
recall  a single  moment  of  even  temporary  friction  marring 
the  life  of  our  circle.  Those  who  have  had  any  experience 
of  political  agitation  will  appreciate  the  value  of  this 
statement. 

Before  abandoning  entirely  my  scientific  career,  I con- 
sidered myself  bound  to  complete  the  report  of  niy  journey 
to  Finland  for  the  Geographical  Society,  as  well  as  some 
other  work  that  I had  in  hand  for  the  same  society ; and 
my  new  friends  were  the  first  to  confirm  me  in  that  de- 
cision. It  would  not  be  fair,  they  said,  to  do  otherwise. 
Consequently,  I worked  hard  to  finish  my  geographical  and 
geological  books. 

Meetings  of  our  circle  were  frequent,  and  I never  missed 
them.  We  used  to  meet  then  in  a suburban  part  of  St. 
Petersburg,  in  a small  house  of  which  Sophie  Perdvskaya, 
under  the  assumed  name  and  the  fabricated  passport  of  an 
artisan’s  wife,  was  the  supposed  tenant.  She  was  born  of 
a very  aristocratic  family,  and  her  father  had  been  for  some 
time  the  military  governor  of  St.  Petersburg ; but,  with 
the  approval  of  her  mother,  who  adored  her,  she  had  left 


318 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


her  home  to  join  a high  school,  and  with  the  three  sisters 
Kormloff  — daughters  of  a rich  manufacturer  — she  had 
founded  that  little  circle  of  self-education  which  later  on  be- 
came our  circle.  Now,  in  the  capacity  of  an  artisan’s  wife, 
in  her  cotton  dress  and  men’s  boots,  her  head  covered  with  a 
cotton  kerchief,  as  she  carried  on  her  shoulders  her  two 
pails  of  water  from  the  Neva,  no  one  would  have  recognized 
in  her  the  girl  who  a few  years  before  shone  in  one  of  the 
most  fashionable  drawing-rooms  of  the  capital.  She  was 
a general  favorite,  and  every  one  of  us,  on  entering  the 
house,  had  a specially  friendly  smile  for  her,  — even  when 
she,  making  a point  of  honor  of  keeping  the  house  rela- 
tively clean,  quarreled  with  us  about  the  dirt  which  we, 
dressed  in  peasant  top-boots  and  sheepskins,  brought  in, 
after  walking  the  muddy  streets  of  the  suburbs.  She  tried 
then  to  give  to  her  girlish,  innocent,  and  very  intelligent 
little  face  the  most  severe  expression  possible  to  it.  In 
her  moral  conceptions  she  was  a “ rigorist,”  but  not  in  the 
least  of  the  sermon-preaching  type.  When  she  was  dis- 
satisfied with  some  one’s  conduct,  she  would  cast  a severe 
glance  at  him  from  beneath  her  brows ; but  in  that  glance 
one  saw  her  open-minded,  generous  nature,  which  under- 
stood all  that  is  human.  On  one  point  only  she  was  in- 
exorable. “A  women’s  man,”  she  once  said,  speaking  of 
some  one,  and  the  expression  and  the  manner  in  which  she 
said  it,  without  interrupting  her  work,  are  engraved  forever 
in  my  memory. 

Perovskaya  was  a “ popularist  ” to  the  very  bottom  of 
her  heart,  and  at  the  same  time  a revolutionist,  a fighter 
of  the  truest  steel-  She  had  no  need  to  embellish  th< 
workers  and  the  peasants  with  imaginary  virtues,  in  order 
to  love  them  and  to  work  for  them.  She  took  them  as 
they  were,  and  said  to  me  once  : “ We  have  begun  a great 
thing.  Two  generations,  perhaps,  will  succumb  in  the  task, 
and  yet  it  must  be  done.”  None  of  the  women  of  our  circle 


SOME  NOBLE  WOMEN 


319 


would  have  given  way  before  the  certainty  of  death  on  the 
scaffold.  Each  would  have  looked  death  straight  in  the 
face.  But  none  of  them,  at  that  stage  of  our  propaganda, 
thought  of  such  a fate.  Perovskaya’s  well-known  portrait 
is  exceptionally  good  ; it  records  so  well  her  earnest  courage, 
her  bright  intelligence,  and  her  loving  nature.  The  letter 
she  wrote  to  her  mother  a few  hours  before  she  went  to  the 
scaffold  is  one  of  the  best  expressions  of  a loving  soul  that 
a woman’s  heart  ever  dictated. 

The  following  incident  will  show  what  the  other  women 
of  our  circle  were.  One  night,  Kupreyanofif  and  I went  to 
,'arvara  B.,  to  whom  we  had  to  make  an  urgent  communi- 
cation. It  was  past  midnight,  but,  seeing  a light  in  her 
window,  we  went  upstairs.  She  sat  in  her  tiny  room,  at  a 
table,  copying  a programme  of  our  circle.  We  knew  hof 
resolute  she  was,  and  the  idea  came  to  us  to  make  one  Oi. 
those  stupid  jokes  which  men  sometimes  think  funny. 
“ B.,”  I said,  “ we  came  to  fetch  you : we  are  going  to  try 
a rather  mad  attempt  to  liberate  our  friends  from  the  for- 
tress.” She  asked  not  one  question.  She  quietly  laid 
down  her  pen,  rose  from  the  chair,  and  said  only,  “ Let  us 
go.”  She  spoke  in  so  simple,  so  unaffected  a voice  that  I 
felt  at  once  how  foolishly  I had  acted,  and  told  her  the 
truth.  She  dropped  back  into  her  chair,  with  tears  in  her 
eyes,  and  in  a despairing  voice  asked  : “ It  was  only  a joke  ? 
Why  do  you  make  such  jokes  ? ” I fully  realized  then  the 
cruelty  of  what  I had  done. 

Another  general  favorite  in  our  circle  was  Serghei  Krav- 
chinsky,  who  became  so  well  known,  both  in  England  and 
in  the  United  States,  under  the  name  of  Stepniak.  He  was 
often  called  “ the  Baby,”  so  unconcerned  was  he  about  his 
own  security  ; but  this  carelessness  about  himself  was  merely 
the  result  of  a complete  absence  of  fear,  which,  after  all,  is 
often  the  best  policy  for  one  who  is  hunted  by  the  police. 


320 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


He  soon  became  well  known  for  his  propaganda  in  the 
circles  of  workers,  under  his  real  Christian  name  of  Serghdi, 
and  consequently  was  very  much  wanted  by  the  police  ; 
notwithstanding  that,  he  took  no  precautions  whatever  to 
conceal  himself,  and  I remember  that  one  day  he  was  severely 
scolded  at  one  of  our  meetings  for  what  was  described  as  a 
gross  imprudence.  Being  late  for  the  meeting,  as  he  often 
was,  and  having  a long  distance  to  cover  in  order  to  reach 
our  house,  he,  dressed  as  a peasant  in  his  sheepskin,  ran 
the  whole  length  of  a great  main  thoroughfare  at  full  speed 
in  the  middle  of  the  street.  “ How  could  you  do  it  ? ” he 
was  reproachfully  asked.  “ You  might  have  aroused  sus- 
picion and  have  been  arrested  as  a common  thief.”  But  I 
wish  that  every  one  had  been  as  cautious  as  he  was  in  affairs 
where  other  people  could  be  compromised. 

We  made  our  first  intimate  acquaintance  over  Stanley’s 
book,  “ How  I Discovered  Livingstone.”  One  night  our 
meeting  had  lasted  till  twelve,  and  as  we  were  about  to 
leave,  one  of  the  Kormloffs  entered  with  a book  in  her  band, 
and  asked  who  among  us  could  undertake  to  translate  by 
the  next  morning  at  eight  o’clock  sixteen  printed  pages  of 
Stanley’s  book.  I looked  at  the  size  of  the  pages,  and  said 
that  if  somebody  would  help  me,  the  work  could  be  done 
during  the  night.  Serghei  volunteered,  and  by  four  o’clock 
the  sixteen  pages  were  done.  We  read  to  each  other  our 
translations,  one  of  us  following  the  English  text ; then  we 
emptied  a jar  of  Russian  porridge  which  had  been  left  on 
the  table  for  us,  and  went  out  together  to  return  home.  We 
became  close  friends  from  that  night. 

I have  always  liked  people  capable  of  working,  and  doing 
their  work  properly.  So  Serghei’s  translation  and  his 
capacity  of  working  rapidly  had  already  influenced  me  in 
his  favor.  But  when  I came  to  know  more  of  him,  I felt 
real  love  for  his  honest,  frank  nature,  for  his  youthful  energy 
and  good  sense,  for  his  superior  intelligence,  simplicity,  and 


STEPNIAK 


321 


truthfulness,  and  for  his  courage  and  tenacity.  He  had 
read  and  thought  a great  deal,  and  upon  the  revolutionary 
character  of  the  struggle  which  he  had  undertaken,  it  ap- 
peared we  had  similar  views.  He  was  ten  years  younger 
than  I was,  and  perhaps  did  not  quite  realize  what  a hard 
contest  the  coming  revolution  would  be.  He  told  us  later 
on,  with  much  humor,  how  he  once  worked  among  the  peas- 
ants in  the  country.  “ One  day,”  he  said,  “ I was  walking 
along  the  road  with  a comrade,  when  we  were  overtaken 
bp  a peasant  in  a sleigh.  I began  to  tell  the  peasant  that 
he  must  not  pay  taxes,  that  the  functionaries  plunder  the 
people,  and  I tried  to  convince  him  by  quotations  from 
the  Bible  that  they  must  revolt.  The  peasant  whipped  up 
his  horse,  but  we  followed  rapidly ; he  made  his  horse  trot, 
and  we  began  to  trot  behind  him  ; all  the  time  I continued 
to  talk  to  him  about  taxes  and  revolt.  Finally  he  made 
his  horse  gallop  ; but  the  animal  was  not  worth  much,  — 
an  underfed  peasant  pony,  — so  my  comrade  and  I did  not 
fall  behind,  but  kept  up  our  propaganda  till  we  were  quite 
out  of  breath.” 

For  some  time  Serghei  stayed  in  Kazan,  and  I had  to 
correspond  with  him.  He  always  hated  writing  letters  in 
cipher,  so  I proposed  a means  of  correspondence  which  had 
often  been  used  before  in  conspiracies.  You  write  an  ordi- 
nary letter  about  all  sorts  of  things,  but  in  this  letter  it  is 
only  certain  words  — let  us  say  every  fifth  word  — which 
has  a sense.  You  write,  for  instance : “ Excuse  my  hurried 
letter.  Come  to-night  to  see  me ; to-morrow  I shall  go 
away  to  my  sister.  My  brother  Nicholas  is  worse ; it  was 
late  to  perform  an  operation.”  Reading  each  fifth  word, 
you  find,  “Come  to-morrow  to  Nicholas,  late.”  We  had  to 
write  letters  of  six  or  seven  pages  to  transmit  one  page  of 
information,  and  we  had  to  cultivate  our  imagination  in 
order  to  fill  the  letters  with  all  sorts  of  things  by  way  of 
introducing  the  words  that  were  required.  Serghei,  from 


322 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


whom  it  was  impossible  to  obtain  a cipher  letter,  took  to 
this  kind  of  correspondence,  and  used  to  send  me  letters 
containing  stories  with  thrilling  incidents  and  dramatic 
endings.  He  said  to  me  afterward  that  this  correspondence 
helped  to  develop  his  literary  talent.  When  one  has  talent, 
everything  contributes  to  its  development. 

In  January  or  February,  1874,  I was  at  Moscow,  in  one 
of  the  houses  in  which  I had  spent  my  childhood.  Early 
in  the  morning  I was  told  that  a peasant  desired  to  see  me. 
I went  out  and  found  it  was  Serghei,  who  had  just  escaped 
from  Tver.  He  was  strongly  built,  and  he  and  another  ex- 
officer,  Eogachoff,  endowed  with  equal  physical  force,  went 
traveling  about  the  country  as  lumber  sawyers.  The  work 
was  very  hard,  especially  for  inexperienced  hands,  but  both 
of  them  liked  it;  and  no  one  would  have  thought  to  look 
for  disguised  officers  in  these  two  strong  sawyers.  They 
wandered  in  this  capacity  for  about  a fortnight  without 
arousing  suspicion,  and  made  revolutionary  propaganda  right 
and  left  without  fear.  Sometimes  Serghei,  who  knew  the 
Hew  Testament  almost  by  heart,  spoke  to  the  peasants  as  a 
religious  preacher,  proving  to  them  by  quotations  from  the 
Bible  that  they  ought  to  start  a revolution.  Sometimes  he 
formed  his  arguments  of  quotations  from  the  economists. 
The  peasants  listened  to  the  two  men  as  to  real  apostles, 
took  them  from  one  house  to  another,  and  refused  to  be  paid 
for  food.  In  a fortnight  they  had  produced  quite  a stir  in 
1 number  of  villages.  Their  fame  was  spreading  far  and 
wide.  The  peasants,  young  and  old,  began  to  whisper  to 
one  another  in  the  barns  about  the  “ delegates ; ” they  began 
to  speak  out  more  loudly  than  they  usually  did  that  the 
land  would  soon  be  taken  from  the  landlords,  who  would 
receive  pensions  from  the  Tsar.  The  younger  people  became 
more  aggressive  toward  the  police  officers,  saying : “ Wait  a 
little ; our  turn  will  soon  come ; you  Herods  will  not  rule 
long  now.”  But  the  fame  of  the  sawyers  reached  the  ears 


FRIENDLINESS  OF  THE  PEASANTS 


323 


of  one  of  the  police  authorities,  and  they  were  arrested.  An 
order  was  given  to  take  them  to  the  next  police  official,  ten 
miles  away. 

They  were  taken  under  the  guard  of  several  peasants 
and  on  their  way  had  to  pass  through  a village  which  was 
holding  its  festival.  “Prisoners  ? All  right  ! Come  on 
here,  my  uncle,”  said  the  peasants,  who  were  all  drinking 
in  honor  of  the  occasion.  They  were  kept  nearly  the  whole 
day  in  that  village,  the  peasants  taking  them  from  one 
house  to  another,  and  treating  them  to  home-made  beer. 
The  guards  did  not  have  to  be  asked  twice.  They  drank, 
and  insisted  that  the  prisoners  should  drink,  too.  “ Hap- 
pily,” Serghei  said,  “ they  passed  round  the  beer  in  such 
large  wooden  bowls  that  I could  put  my  mouth  to  the  rim 
of  the  bowl  as  if  I were  drinking,  but  no  one  could  see  how 
much  beer  I had  imbibed.”  The  guards  were  all  drunk 
toward  night,  and  preferred  not  to  appear  in  this  state  be- 
fore the  police  officer,  so  they  decided  to  stay  in  the  village 
till  morning.  Serghei  kept  talking  to  them ; and  all  listened 
to  him,  regretting  that  such  a good  man  had  been  caught. 
As  they  were  going  to  sleep,  a young  peasant  whispered 
to  Serghei,  “ When  I go  to  shut  the  gate,  I will  leave  it 
unbolted.”  Serghei  and  his  comrade  understood  the  hint, 
and  as  soon  as  all  fell  asleep,  they  went  out  into  the  street. 
They  started  at  a fast  pace,  and  at  five  o’clock  in  the  morn- 
ing were  twenty  miles  away  from  the  village,  at  a small 
railway  station,  where  they  took  the  first  train,  and  went 
to  Moscow.  Serghffi  remained  there,  and  later,  when  all  of 
us  at  St.  Petersburg  had  been  arrested,  the  Moscow  circle, 
under  his  and  Voinaralsky’s  inspiration,  became  the  main 
centre  of  the  agitation. 

Here  and  there,  small  groups  of  propagandists  had  set- 
tled in  towns  and  villages  in  various  capacities.  Black- 
smiths’ shops  and  small  farms  had  been  started,  and  young 


324 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


men  of  the  wealthier  classes  worked  in  the  shops  or  on  the 
farms,  to  be  in  daily  contact  with  the  toiling  masses.  At 
Moscow,  a number  of  young  girls,  of  rich  families,  who  had 
studied  at  the  Zurich  University  and  had  started  a separate 
organization,  went  even  so  far  as  to  enter  cotton  factories, 
where  they  worked  from  fourteen  to  sixteen  hours  a day, 
and  lived  in  the  factory  barracks  the  miserable  life  of  the 
Russian  factory  girls.  It  was  a grand  movement,  in  which, 
at  the  lowest  estimate,  from  two  to  three  thousand  persons 
took  an  active  part,  while  twice  or  thrice  as  many  sympa- 
thizers and  supporters  helped  the  active  vanguard  in  various 
ways.  With  a good  half  of  that  army  our  St.  Petersburg 
circle  was  in  regular  correspondence,  — always,  of  course, 
in  cipher. 

The  literature  which  could  be  published  in  Russia  under 
a rigorous  censorship  — the  faintest  hint  of  socialism  being 
prohibited  — was  soon  found  insufficient,  and  we  started 
a printing-office  of  our  own  abroad.  Pamphlets  for  the 
workers  and  the  peasants  had  to  be  written,  and  our  small 
“ literary  committee,”  of  which  I was  a member,  had  its 
hands  full  of  work.  Serghei  wrote  two  such  pamphlets, 
one  in  the  Lamennais  style  and  another  containing  an  ex- 
position of  socialism  in  a fairy  tale,  and  both  had  a wide 
circulation.  The  books  and  pamphlets  which  were  printed 
abroad  were  smuggled  into  Russia  by  thousands,  stored  at 
certain  spots,  and  sent  out  to  the  local  circles,  which  dis- 
tributed them  amongst  the  peasants  and  the  workers.  All 
this  required  a vast  organization  as  well  as  much  traveling 
about,  and  a colossal  correspondence,  particularly  for  pro- 
tecting our  helpers  and  our  bookstores  from  the  police. 
We  had  special  ciphers  for  different  provincial  circles,  and 
often,  after  six  or  seven  hours  had  been  passed  in  discuss- 
ing all  details,  the  women,  who  did  not  trust  to  our  accuracy 
in  the  cipher  correspondence,  spent  all  the  night  in  coven 
ing  sheets  of  paper  with  cabalistic  figures  and  fractions. 


FRUITFUL  LABORS 


325 


The  utmost  cordiality  always  prevailed  at  our  meetings. 
Chairmen  and  all  sorts  of  formalism  are  so  utterly  repug- 
nant to  the  Russian  mind  that  we  had  none ; and  although 
our  debates  were  sometimes  extremely  hot,  especially  when 
“ programme  questions  ” were  under  discussion,  we  always 
managed  very  well  without  resorting  to  Western  formali- 
ties. An  absolute  sincerity,  a general  desire  to  settle  the 
difficulties  for  the  best,  and  a frankly  expressed  contempt 
for  all  that  in  the  least  degree  approached  theatrical  affecta- 
tion were  quite  sufficient.  If  any  one  of  us  had  ventured 
to  attempt  oratorical  effects  by  a speech,  friendly  jokes 
would  have  shown  him  at  once  that  speech-making  was  out 
of  place.  Often  we  had  to  take  our  meals  during  these 
meetings,  and  they  invariably  consisted  of  rye  bread,  with 
cucumbers,  a bit  of  cheese,  and  plenty  of  weak  tea  to  quench 
the  thirst.  Not  that  money  was  lacking ; there  was  always 
enough,  and  yet  there  was  never  too  much  to  cover  the 
steadily  growing  expenses  for  printing,  transportation  of 
books,  concealing  friends  wanted  by  the  police,  and  starting 
new  enterprises. 

At  St.  Petersburg,  it  was  not  long  before  we  had  wide 
acquaintance  amongst  the  workers.  Serdukoff,  a young 
man  of  splendid  education,  had  made  a number  of  friends 
amongst  the  engineers,  most  of  them  employed  in  a state 
factory  of  the  artillery  department,  and  he  had  organized  a 
circle  of  about  thirty  members,  which  used  to  meet  for 
reading  and  discussion.  The  engineers  are  pretty  well  paid 
at  St.  Petersburg,  and  those  who  were  not  married  were 
fairly  well  off.  They  soon  became  quite  familiar  with  the 
current  radical  and  socialist  literature,  — Buckle,  Lassalle, 
Mill,  Draper,  Spielhagen,  were  familiar  names  to  them ; 
and  in  their  aspect  these  engineers  differed  little  from  stu- 
dents. When  Kelnitz,  Serghei,  and  I joined  the  circle, 
we  frequently  visited  their  group,  and  gave  them  informal 
lectures  upon  all  sorts  of  things.  Our  hopes,  however,  that 


826  MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 

these  young  men  would  grow  into  ardent  propagandists 
amidst  less  privileged  classes  of  workers  were  not  fully 
realized.  In  a free  country  they  would  have  been  the 
habitual  speakers  at  public  meetings ; but,  like  the  privi- 
leged workers  of  the  watch  trade  in  Geneva,  they  treated 
the  mass  of  the  factory  hands  with  a sort  of  contempt,  and 
were  in  no  haste  to  become  martyrs  to  the  socialist  cause. 
It  was  only  after  they  had  been  arrested  and  kept  three  or 
four  years  in  prison  for  having  dared  to  think  as  socialists, 
and  had  sounded  the  full  depth  of  Russian  absolutism,  that 
several  of  them  developed  into  ardent  propagandists,  chiefly 
of  a political  revolution. 

My  sympathies  went  especially  toward  the  weavers  and 
the  workers  in  the  cotton  factories.  There  are  many  thou- 
sands of  them  at  St.  Petersburg,  who  work  there  during 
the  winter,  and  return  for  the  three  summer  months  to 
their  native  villages  to  cultivate  the  land.  Half  peasants 
and  half  town  workers,  they  had  generally  retained  the 
social  spirit  of  the  Russian  villager.  The  movement  spread 
like  wildfire  among  them.  We  had  to  restrain  the  zeal  of 
our  new  friends ; otherwise  they  would  have  brought  to 
our  lodgings  hundreds  at  a time,  young  and  old.  Most  of 
them  lived  in  small  associations,  or  artels,  ten  or  twelve 
persons  hiring  a common  apartment  and  taking  their  meals 
together,  each  one  paying  every  month  his  share  of  the 
general  expenses.  It  was  to  these  lodgings  that  we  used 
to  go,  and  the  weavers  soon  brought  us  in  contact  with  other 
artels,  of  stone-masons,  carpenters,  and  the  like.  In  some 
of  these  artels  Sergh^i,  Kelnitz,  and  two  more  of  our  friends 
were  quite  at  home,  and  spent  whole  nights  talking  about 
socialism.  Besides,  we  had  in  different  parts  of  St.  Peters- 
burg special  apartments,  kept  by  some  of  our  people,  to 
which  ten  or  twelve  workers  would  come  every  night,  to 
learn  reading  and  writing,  and  after  that  to  have  a talk. 


ZEALOUS  AGITATION 


327 


From  time  to  time  one  of  us  went  to  the  native  villages  of 
our  town  friends,  and  spent  a couple  of  weeks  in  almost 
open  propaganda  amongst  the  peasants. 

Of  course,  all  of  us  who  had  to  deal  with  this  class  of 
workers  had  to  dress  like  the  workers  themselves ; that  is, 
to  wear  the  peasant  garb.  The  gap  between  the  peasants 
and  the  educated  people  is  so  great  in  Eussia,  and  contact 
between  them  is  so  rare,  that  not  only  does  the  appearance 
in  a village  of  a man  who  wears  the  town  dress  awaken 
general  attention,  but  even  in  town,  if  one  whose  talk  and 
dress  reveal  that  he  is  not  a worker  is  seen  to  go  about 
with  workers,  the  suspicion  of  the  police  is  aroused  at  once. 
“ Why  should  he  go  about  with  ‘ low  people,’  if  he  has  not 
a bad  intention  ? ” Often,  after  a dinner  in  a rich  mansion, 
or  even  in  the  Winter  Palace,  where  I went  frequently  to 
see  a friend,  I took  a cab,  hurried  to  a poor  student’s  lodg- 
ing in  a remote  suburb,  exchanged  my  fine  clothes  for  a 
cotton  shirt,  peasant  top-boots,  and  a sheepskin,  and,  jok- 
ing with  peasants  on  the  way,  went  to  meet  my  worker 
friends  in  some  slum.  I told  them  what  I had  seen  of  the 
labor  movement  abroad.  They  listened  eagerly  ; they  lost 
not  a word  of  what  was  said  ; and  then  came  the  question, 
“ What  can  we  do  in  Eussia  ? ” “ Agitate,  organize,”  was 

our  reply ; “ there  is  no  royal  road  ; ” and  we  read  them  a 
popular  story  of  the  French  Eevolution,  an  adaptation  of 
Erckmann-Chatrian’s  admirable  “ Histoire  d’un  Paysan.” 
Every  one  admired  M.  Chovel,  who  went  as  a propagan- 
dist through  the  villages,  distributing  prohibited  books,  and 
all  burned  to  follow  in  his  footsteps.  “ Speak  to  others,” 
we  said  ; “ bring  men  together  ; and  when  we  become  more 
numerous,  we  shall  see  what  we  can  attain.”  They  fully 
understood,  and  we  had  only  to  moderate  their  zeal. 

Amongst  them  I passed  my  happiest  hours.  New  Year’s 
Day  of  1874,  the  last  I spent  in  Eussia  at  liberty,  is 
especially  memorable  to  me.  The  previous  evening  I had 


328 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


been  in  a choice  company.  Inspiring,  noble  words  were 
spoken  that  night  about  the  citizen’s  duties,  the  well-being 
of  the  country,  and  the  like.  But  underneath  all  the  thrill- 
ing speeches  one  note  sounded  : How  could  each  of  the 
speakers  preserve  his  own  personal  well-being  ? Yet  no 
one  had  the  courage  to  say,  frankly  and  openly,  that  he 
was  ready  to  do  only  that  which  would  not  endanger  his 
own  dovecote.  Sophisms  — no  end  of  sophisms  — about 
the  slowness  of  evolution,  the  inertia  of  the  lower  classes, 
the  uselessness  of  sacrifice,  were  uttered  to  justify  the 
unspoken  words,  all  intermingled  with  assurances  of  each 
one’s  willingness  to  make  sacrifices.  I returned  home, 
seized  suddenly  with  profound  sadness  amid  all  this  talk. 

Next  morning  I went  to  one  of  our  weavers’  meetings. 
It  took  place  in  an  underground  dark  room.  I was  dressed 
as  a peasant,  and  was  lost  in  the  crowd  of  other  sheepskins. 
My  comrade,  who  was  known  to  the  workers,  simply  intro- 
duced me  : “ Borodin,  a friend.”  “ Tell  us,  Borodin,”  he 
said,  “ what  you  have  seen  abroad.”  And  I spoke  of  the 
labor  movement  in  Western  Europe,  its  struggles,  its  diffi- 
culties, and  its  hopes. 

The  audience  consisted  mostly  of  middle-aged  people. 
They  were  intensely  interested.  They  asked  me  questions, 
all  to  the  point,  about  the  minute  details  of  the  working- 
men’s unions,  the  aims  of  the  International  Association  and 
its  chances  of  success.  And  then  came  questions  about 
what  could  be  done  in  Russia  and  the  prospects  of  our  pro- 
paganda. I never  minimized  the  dangers  of  our  agitation, 
and  frankly  said  what  I thought.  “ We  shall  probably 
be  sent  to  Siberia,  one  of  these  days  ; and  you  — part  of 
you  — will  be  kept  long  months  in  prison  for  having  lis- 
tened to  us.”  This  gloomy  prospect  did  not  frighten  them. 
“ After  all,  there  are  men  in  Siberia,  too,  — not  bears  only.” 
“ Where  men  are  living  others  can  live.”  “ The  devil  is 


COURAGE  OF  THE  WORKERS 


829 


not  so  terrible  as  they  paint  him.”  “ If  you  are  afraid 
of  wolves,  never  go  into  the  wood,”  they  said,  as  we  parted. 
And  when,  afterward,  several  of  them  were  arrested,  they 
nearly  all  behaved  bravely,  sheltering  us  and  betraying  no 

one. 


XVI 


Duking  the  two  years  of  which  I am  now  speaking 
many  arrests  were  made,  both  at  St.  Petersburg  and  in  the 
provinces.  Not  a month  passed  without  our  losing  some 
one,  or  learning  that  members  of  this  or  that  provincial 
group  had  disappeared.  Toward  the  end  of  1873  the 
arrests  became  more  and  more  frequent.  In  November  one 
of  our  main  settlements  in  a suburb  of  St.  Petersburg  was 
raided  by  the  police.  We  lost  Perdvskaya  and  three  other 
friends,  and  all  our  relations  with  the  workers  in  this 
suburb  had  to  be  suspended.  We  founded  a new  settle- 
ment, further  away  from  the  town,  but  it  had  soon  to  be 
abandoned.  The  police  became  very  vigilant,  and  the  ap- 
pearance of  a student  in  the  workmen’s  quarters  was  no- 
ticed at  once ; spies  circulated  among  the  workers,  who 
were  watched  closely.  Dmitri  Kelnitz,  Serghei,  and  my- 
self, in  our  sheepskins  and  with  our  peasant  looks,  passed, 
unnoticed,  and  continued  to  visit  the  haunted  ground.  But 
Dmitri  and  Serghei,  whose  names  had  acquired  a wide 
notoriety  in  the  workmen’s  quarters,  were  eagerly  wanted 
by  the  police ; and  if  they  had  been  found  accidentally  dur- 
ing a nocturnal  raid  at  a friend’s  lodgings,  they  would  havo 
been  arrested  at  once.  There  were  periods  when  Dmitr 
had  to  hunt  every  day  for  a place  where  he  could  spend 
the  night  in  relative  safety.  “ Can  I spend  the  night  with 
you  ? ” he  would  ask,  entering  some  comrade’s  room  at 
ten  o’clock.  “ Impossible  ! my  lodgings  have  been  closely 
watched  lately.  Better  go  to  N.”  “ I have  just  come 

from  him,  and  he  says  spies  swarm  his  neighborhood.” 
“ Then  go  to  M. ; he  is  a great  friend  of  mine  and  above 


VIGILANCE  OF  THE  POLICE 


m 

suspicion.  But  it  is  far  from  here,  and  you  must  t„Ke  a 
cab.  Here  is  the  money.”  But  on  principle  Dmitri  would 
not  take  a cab,  and  would  walk  to  the  other  end  of  the  town 
to  find  a refuge,  or  at  last  go  to  a friend  whose  rooms 
might  be  searched  at  any  moment. 

Early  in  January,  1874,  another  settlement,  our  main 
stronghold  for  propaganda  amongst  the  weavers,  was  lost. 
Some  of  our  best  propagandists  disappeared  behind  the 
gates  of  the  mysterious  Third  Section.  Our  circle  became 
narrower,  general  meetings  were  increasingly  difficult,  and 
we  made  strenuous  efforts  to  form  new  circles  of  young 
men  who  might  continue  our  work  when  we  should  all  be 
arrested.  Tchaykdvsky  was  in  the  south,  and  we  forced 
Dmftri  and  Serghei  to  leave  St.  Petersburg,  — actually 
forced  them,  imperiously  ordering  them  to  leave.  Only 
five  or  six  of  us  remained  to  transact  all  tho  business  of 
our  circle.  I intended,  as  soon  as  I should  have  delivered 
my  report  to  the  Geographical  Society,  to  go  to  the  south- 
west of  Russia,  and  there  to  start  a sort  of  land  league, 
similar  to  the  league  which  became  so  powerful  in  Ireland 
at  the  end  of  the  seventies. 

After  two  months  of  relative  quiet,  we  learned  in  the 
middle  of  March  that  nearly  all  the  circle  of  the  engineers 
had  been  arrested,  and  with  them  a young  man  named 
Nfzovkin,  an  ex-student,  who  unfortunately  had  their  con- 
fidence, and,  we  were  sure,  would  soon  try  to  clear  himself  by 
telling  all  he  knew  about  us.  Besides  Dmitri  and  Serghei 
he  knew  Serdukdff,  the  founder  of  the  circle,  and  myself, 
and  he  would  certainly  name  us  as  soon  as  he  was  pressed 
with  questions.  A few  days  later,  two  weavers  — most 
unreliable  fellows,  who  had  even  embezzled  some  money 
from  their  comrades,  and  who  knew  me  under  the  name  of 
Borodin  — were  arrested.  These  two  would  surely  set  the 
police  at  once  upon  the  track  of  Borodin,  the  man  dressed 
as  a peasant,  who  spoke  at  the  weavers’  meetings.  Within 


832 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


a week’s  time  all  the  members  of  our  circle,  excepting  Ser« 
dukoff  and  myself,  were  arrested. 

There  was  nothing  left  us  hut  to  fly  from  St.  Peters- 
burg : this  was  exactly  what  we  did  not  want  to  do.  All 
our  immense  organization  for  printing  pamphlets  abroad 
and  for  smuggling  them  into  Russia  ; all  the  network  of 
circles,  farms,  and  country  settlements  with  which  we  were 
in  correspondence  in  nearly  forty  (out  of  fifty)  provinces 
of  European  Russia,  and  which  had  been  slowly  built  up 
during  the  last  two  years ; and  finally,  our  workers’  groups 
at  St.  Petersburg  and  our  four  different  centres  for  propa- 
ganda amongst  workers  of  the  capital,  — how  could  we 
abandon  all  these  without  having  found  men  to  maintain 
our  relations  and  correspondence  ? Serdukoff  and  I de- 
cided to  admit  to  our  circle  two  new  members,  and  to 
transfer  the  business  to  them.  We  met  every  evening  in 
different  parts  of  the  town,  and  as  we  never  kept  any  ad- 
dresses or  names  in  writing,  — the  smuggling  addresses  alone 
had  been  deposited  in  a secure  place,  in  cipher,  — we  had 
to  teach  our  new  members  hundreds  of  names  and  addresses 
and  a dozen  ciphers,  repeating  them  over  and  over,  until 
our  friends  had  learned  them  by  heart.  Every  evening  we 
went  over  the  whole  map  of  Russia  in  this  way,  dwelling 
especially  on  its  western  frontier,  which  was  studded  with 
men  and  women  engaged  in  receiving  books  from  the  smug- 
glers, and  on  the  eastern  provinces,  where  we  had  our  main 
settlements.  Then,  always  in  disguise,  we  had  to  take  the 
new  members  to  our  sympathizers  in  the  town,  and  introduce 
them  to  those  workers  who  had  not  yet  been  arrested. 

The  thing  to  be  done  in  such  a case  was  to  disappear  from 
one’s  apartments,  and  to  reappear  somewhere  else  under  an 
assumed  name.  Serdukoff  had  abandoned  his  lodging,  but, 
having  no  passport,  he  concealed  himself  in  the  houses  of 
friends.  I ought  to  have  done  the  same,  but  a strange  cir- 
cumstance prevented  me.  I had  just  finished  my  report 


IN  A DILEMMA 


333 


upon  the  glacial  formations  in  Finland  and  Russia,  and  this 
report  had  to  be  read  at  a meeting  of  the  Geographical 
Society.  The  invitations  were  already  issued,  but  it  hap- 
pened that  on  the  appointed  day  the  two  geological  societies 
of  St.  Petersburg  had  a joint  meeting,  and  they  asked  the 
Geographical  Society  to  postpone  the  reading  of  my  report 
for  a week.  It  was  known  that  I would  present  certain 
ideas  about  the  extension  of  the  ice  cap  as  far  as  Middle 
Russia,  and  our  geologists,  with  the  exception  of  my  friend 
and  teacher,  Friedrich  Schmidt,  considered  this  a specula- 
tion of  too  far-reaching  character,  and  wanted  to  have  it 
thoroughly  discussed.  For  one  week  more,  consequently,  I 
could  not  go  away. 

Strangers  prowled  about  my  house  and  called  upon  me 
under  all  sorts  of  fantastical  pretexts : one  of  them  wanted 
to  buy  a forest  on  my  Tambdv  estate,  which  was  situated  in 
absolutely  treeless  prairies.  I noticed  in  my  street  — the 
fashionable  Morskaya  — one  of  the  two  arrested  weavers 
whom  I have  mentioned,  and  thus  learned  that  my  house 
was  watched.  Yet  I had  to  act  as  if  nothing  extraordinary 
had  happened,  because  I was  to  appear  at  the  meeting  of 
the  Geographical  Society  the  following  Friday  night. 

The  meeting  came.  The  discussions  were  very  animated, 
and  one  point,  at  least,  was  won.  It  was  recognized  that 
all  old  theories  concerning  the  diluvial  period  in  Russia 
were  totally  baseless,  and  that  a new  departure  must  be 
made  in  the  investigation  of  the  whole  question.  I had 
the  satisfaction  of  hearing  our  leading  geologist,  Barbot-de- 
Marny,  say,  “ Ice  cap  or  not,  we  must  acknowledge,  gentle- 
men, that  all  we  have  hitherto  said  about  the  action  of  float- 
ing ice  had  no  foundation  whatever  in  actual  exploration.” 
And  I was  proposed  at  that  meeting  to  be  nominated  presi- 
dent of  the  physical  geography  section,  while  I was  asking 
myself  whether  I should  not  spend  that  very  night  in  thr 
prison  of  the  Third  Section. 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


331 

It  would  have  been  best  not  to  return  at  all  to  my  apart- 
ment, but  I was  broken  down  with  fatigue,  after  the 
exertion  of  the  last  few  days,  and  went  home.  There  was 
no  police  raid  during  that  night.  I looked  through  the 
heaps  of  my  papers,  destroyed  everything  that  might  be 
compromising  for  any  one,  packed  all  my  things,  and  pre- 
pared to  leave.  I knew  that  my  apartment  was  watched, 
but  I hoped  that  the  police  would  not  pay  me  a visit  before 
late  in  the  night,  and  that  at  dusk  I could  slip  out  of  the 
house  without  being  noticed.  Dusk  came,  and,  as  I was 
starting,  one  of  the  servant  girls  said  to  me,  “ You  had 
better  go  by  the  service  staircase.”  I understood  what  she 
meant,  and  went  quickly  down  the  staircase  and  out  of  the 
house.  One  cab  only  stood  at  the  gate  ; I jumped  into  it. 
The  driver  took  me  to  the  great  Nevsky  Prospekt.  There 
was  no  pursuit  at  first,  and  I thought  myself  safe  ; but  pre- 
sently I noticed  another  cab  running  full  speed  after  us  ; our 
horse  was  delayed  somehow,  and  the  other  cab  passed  ours. 

To  my  astonishment,  I saw  in  it  one  of  the  two  arrested 
weavers,  accompanied  by  some  one  else.  He  waved  his 
hand  as  if  he  had  something  to  tell  me.  I told  my  cabman 
to  stop.  “ Perhaps,”  I thought,  “ he  has  been  released 
from  arrest,  and  has  an  important  communication  to  make  to 
me.”  But  as  soon  as  we  stopped,  the  man  who  was  with 
the  weaver  — he  was  a detective  — shouted  loudly,  “ Mr. 
Borodin,  Prince  Kropotkin,  I arrest  you  ! ” He  made  a 
signal  to  the  policemen,  of  whom  there  are  hosts  along  the 
main  thoroughfare  of  St.  Petersburg,  and  at  the  same  time 
jumped  into  my  cab  and  showed  me  a paper  which  bore  the 
stamp  of  the  St.  Petersburg  police.  “ I have  an  order  to 
take  you  before  the  governor-general  for  an  explanation,” 
he  said.  Resistance  was  impossible,  — a couple  of  police- 
men were  already  close  byr,  — and  I told  my  cabman  to  turn 
round  and  drive  to  the  governor-general’s  house.  The 
weaver  remained  in  his  cab  and  followed  us. 


HOW  I WAS  ARRESTED 


335 


It  was  now  evident  that  the  police  had  hesitated  for  ten 
days  to  arrest  me,  because  they  were  not  sure  that  Borodin 
and  I were  the  same  person.  My  response  to  the  weaver’s 
call  had  settled  their  doubts. 

It  so  happened  that  just  as  I was  leaving  my  house  a 
young  man  came  from  Moscow,  bringing  me  a letter  from 
a friend,  Voinaralsky,  and  another  from  Dmitri  addressed 
to  our  friend  Polakoff.  The  former  announced  the  estab- 
lishment of  a secret  printing-office  at  Moscow,  and  was  full 
of  cheerful  news  concerning  the  activity  in  that  city.  I 
read  it  and  destroyed  it.  As  the  second  letter  contained 
nothing  but  innocent  friendly  chat,  I took  it  with  me.  Now 
that  I was  arrested,  I thought  it  would  be  better  to  destroy 
it,  and,  asking  the  detective  to  show  me  his  paper  again,  I 
took  advantage  of  the  time  that  he  was  fumbling  in  his 
pocket  to  drop  the  letter  on  the  pavement  without  his 
noticing  it.  However,  as  we  reached  the  governor-general’s 
house  the  weaver  handed  it  to  the  detective,  saying,  “ I saw 
the  gentleman  drop  this  letter  on  the  pavement,  so  I picked 
it  up.” 

Now  came  tedious  hours  of  waiting  for  the  representativ  ) 
of  the  judicial  authorities,  the  procureur  or  public  prose- 
cutor. This  functionary  plays  the  part  of  a straw  mar, 
who  is  paraded  by  the  state  police  during  their  searches : 
he  gives  an  aspect  of  legality  to  their  proceedings.  It  was 
many  hours  before  that  gentleman  was  found  and  brought 
to  perform  his  functions  as  a sham  representative  of  Justice. 
I was  taken  back  to  my  house,  and  a most  thorough  search 
of  all  my  papers  was  made ; this  lasted  till  three  in  the 
morning,  but  did  not  reveal  a scrap  of  paper  that  could  tell 
against  me  or  any  one  else. 

From  my  house  I was  taken  to  the  Third  Section,  that 
omnipotent  institution  which  has  ruled  in  Russia  from  the 
beginning  of  the  reign  of  Nicholas  I.  down  to  the  present 
time,  — a true  “state  in  the  state.”  It  began  under  Peter 


336 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


I.  in  the  Secret  Department,  where  the  adversaries  of  the 
founder  of  the  Russian  military  empire  were  subject  to  the 
most  abominable  tortures,  under  which  they  expired  ; it  was 
continued  in  the  Secret  Chancelry  during  the  reigns  of  the 
Empresses,  when  the  Torture  Chamber  of  the  powerful 
Minich  inspired  all  Russia  with  terror  ; and  it  received  its 
present  organization  from  the  iron  despot,  Nicholas  I.,  who 
attached  to  it  the  corps  of  gendarmes,  — the  chief  of  the 
gendarmes  becoming  a person  far  more  dreaded  in  the  Rus- 
sian Empire  than  the  Emperor  himself. 

In  every  province  of  Russia,  in  every  populous  town,  nay, 
at  every  railway  station,  there  are  gendarmes  who  report 
directly  to  their  own  generals  or  colonels,  who  in  turn  cor- 
respond with  the  chief  of  the  gendarmes;  and  the  latter, 
seeing  the  Emperor  every  day,  reports  to  him  what  he  finds 
necessary  to  report.  All  functionaries  of  the  empire  are 
under  gendarme  supervision ; it  is  the  duty  of  the  generals 
and  colonels  to  keep  an  eye  upon  the  public  and  private 
life  of  every  subject  of  the  Tsar,  — even  upon  the  governors 
of  the  provinces,  the  ministers,  and  the  grand  dukes.  The 
Emperor  himself  is  under  their  close  watch,  and  as  they  are 
well  informed  of  the  petty  chronicle  of  the  palace,  and  know 
every  step  that  the  Emperor  takes  outside  his  palace,  the 
chief  of  the  gendarmes  becomes,  so  to  speak,  a confidant  of 
the  most  intimate  affairs  of  the  rulers  of  Russia. 

At  this  period  of  the  reign  of  Alexander  II.  the  Third 
Section  was  absolutely  all-powerful.  The  gendarme  colonels 
made  searches  by  the  thousand  without  troubling  themselves 
in  the  least  about  the  existence  of  laws  and  law  courts  in 
Russia.  They  arrested  whom  they  liked,  kept  people  im- 
prisoned as  long  as  they  pleased,  and  transported  hundreds 
to  Northeast  Russia  or  Siberia  according  to  the  fancy  of 
general  or  colonel ; the  signature  of  the  minister  of  the 
interior  was  a mere  formality,  because  he  had  no  control 
over  them  and  no  knowledge  of  their  doings. 


EXAMINATION  BY  THE  PROCUREUB 


337 


It  was  four  o’clock  in  the  morning  when  my  examination 
began.  “ You  are  accused,”  I was  solemnly  told,  “ of  hav- 
ing belonged  to  a secret  society  which  has  for  its  object  the 
overthrow  of  the  existing  form  of  government,  and  of  con- 
spiracy against  the  sacred  person  of  his  Imperial  Majesty. 
Are  you  guilty  of  this  crime  ? ” 

“ Till  I am  brought  before  a court  where  I can  speak 
publicly,  I will  give  you  no  replies  whatever.” 

“ Write,”  the  procureur  dictated  to  a scribe  : “ ‘ Does  not 
acknowledge  himself  guilty.’  Still,”  he  continued,  after  a 
pause,  “ I must  ask  you  certain  questions.  Do  you  know 
a person  of  the  name  of  Nikolai  Tcliaykdvsky  ? ” 

“ If  you  persist  in  your  questions,  then  write  ‘ No  ’ to 
any  question  whatsoever  that  you  are  pleased  to  ask  me.” 

“ But  if  we  ask  you  whether  you  know,  for  instance,  Mr. 
Polakdff,  whom  you  spoke  about  awhile  ago  ? ” 

“ The  moment  you  ask  me  such  a question,  don’t  hesi- 
tate : write  ‘ No.’  And  if  you  ask  me  whether  I know  my 
brother,  or  my  sister,  or  my  stepmother,  write  ‘ No.’  You 
will  not  receive  from  me  another  reply  : because  if  I an- 
swered ‘ Yes  ’ with  regard  to  any  person,  you  would  at  once 
plan  some  evil  against  him,  making  a raid  or  something 
worse,  and  saying  next  that  I named  him.” 

A long  list  of  questions  was  read,  to  which  I patiently 
replied  each  time,  ‘‘Write  ‘No.’”  That  lasted  for  an 
hour,  during  which  I learned  that  all  who  had  been  arrested, 
with  the  exception  of  the  two  weavers,  had  behaved  very 
well.  The  weavers  knew  only  that  I had  twice  met  a 
dozen  workers,  and  the  gendarmes  knew  nothing  about  our 
circle. 

“ What  are  you  doing,  prince  ? ” a gendarme  officer  said, 
as  he  took  me  to  my  cell.  “ Your  refusal  to  answer  ques- 
tions will  be  made  a terrible  weapon  against  you.” 

“ It  is  my  right,  is  it  not  ? ” 

“ Yes,  but  — you  know.  ...  I hope  you  will  find  this 


838 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


room  comfortable.  It  has  been  kept  ■warm  since  your 
arrest.” 

I found  it  quite  comfortable,  and  fell  sound  asleep.  I 
was  waked  the  next  morning  by  a gendarme,  who  brought 
me  the  morning  tea.  He  was  soon  followed  by  somebody 
else,  who  whispered  to  me  in  the  most  unconcerned  way, 
“ Here’s  a scrap  of  paper  and  a pencil : write  your  letter.” 
It  was  a sympathizer,  whom  I knew  by  name ; he  used  to 
transmit  our  correspondence  with  the  prisoners  of  the  Third 
Section. 

From  all  sides  I heard  knocks  on  the  walls,  following  in 
rapid  succession.  It  was  the  prisoners  communicating  with 
one  another  by  means  of  light  taps  ; but,  being  a newcomer, 
I could  make  nothing  out  of  the  noise,  which  seemed  to 
come  from  all  parts  of  the  building  at  once. 

One  thing  worried  me.  During  the  search  in  my  house, 
I overheard  the  procureur  whispering  to  the  gendarme 
officer  about  going  to  make  a search  at  the  apartment  of 
my  friend  Polakoff,  to  whom  the  letter  of  Dmitri  was 
addressed.  Polakdff  was  a young  student,  a very  gifted 
zoologist  and  botanist,  with  whom  I had  made  my  Vitim 
expedition  in  Siberia.  He  was  born  of  a poor  Cossack 
family  on  the  frontier  of  Mongolia,  and,  after  having  sur- 
mounted all  sorts  of  difficulties,  he  had  come  to  St.  Peters- 
burg, entered  the  university,  where  he  had  won  the  reputa- 
tion of  a most  promising  zoologist,  and  was  then  passing 
his  final  examinations.  We  had  been  great  friends  since 
our  long  journey,  and  had  even  lived  together  for  a time  at 
St.  Petersburg,  but  he  took  no  interest  in  my  political 
activity. 

I spoke  of  him  to  the  procureur.  “ I give  you  my  word 
of  honor,”  I said,  “ that  Polakdff  has  never  taken  part  in 
any  political  affair.  To-morrow  he  has  to  pass  an  examina- 
tion, and  you  will  spoil  forever  the  scientific  career  of  a 


A LYING  OFFICIAL 


339 


young  man  who  has  gone  through  great  hardships,  and  has 
struggled  for  years  against  all  sorts  of  obstacles,  to  attain 
his  present  position.  I know  that  you  do  not  much  care 
for  it,  but  he  is  looked  upon  at  the  university  as  one  of  the 
future  glories  of  Bussian  science.” 

The  search  was  made,  nevertheless,  but  a respite  of  three 
days  was  given  for  the  examinations.  A little  later  I was 
called  before  the  procureur,  who  triumphantly  showed  me 
an  envelope  addressed  in  my  handwriting,  and  in  it  a note, 
also  in  my  handwriting,  which  said,  “ Please  take  this  packet 
to  Y.  E.,  and  ask  that  it  be  kept  until  demand  in  due  form 
is  made.”  The  person  to  whom  the  note  was  addressed 
was  not  mentioned  in  the  note.  “ This  letter,”  the  pro- 
cureur said,  “ was  found  at  Mr.  Polakoff  s ; and  now,  prince, 
his  fate  is  in  your  hands.  If  you  tell  me  who  V.  E.  is,  Mr. 
Polakdff  will  be  released  ; but  if  you  refuse  to  do  so,  he  will 
be  kept  as  long  as  he  does  not  make  up  his  mind  to  give  us 
the  name  of  that  person.” 

Looking  at  the  envelope,  which  was  addressed  in  black 
chalk,  and  the  letter,  which  was  written  in  common  lead 
pencil,  I immediately  remembered  the  circumstances  under 
which  the  two  had  been  written.  “ I am  positive,”  I ex- 
claimed at  once,  “ that  the  note  and  the  envelope  were  not 
found  together ! It  is  you  who  have  put  the  letter  in  the 
envelope.” 

The  procureur  blushed.  “ Would  you  have  me  believe,” 
I continued,  “ that  you,  a practical  man,  did  not  notice  that 
the  two  were  written  with  different  pencils  ? And  now  you 
are  trying  to  make  people  think  that  the  two  belong  to 
each  other  ! Well,  sir,  then  I tell  you  that  the  letter  was 
not  to  Polakoff.” 

He  hesitated  for  some  time,  but  then,  regaining  his  auda- 
city, he  said,  “Polakoff  has  admitted  that  this  letter  of 
yours  was  written  to  him.” 

Now  I knew  he  was  lying.  Polakoff  would  have  admitted 


840 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


everything  concerning  himself ; but  he  would  have  preferred 
to  be  marched  to  Siberia  rather  than  to  involve  another  per- 
son. So,  looking  straight  in  the  face  of  the  procureur,  I 
replied,  “ No,  sir,  he  has  never  said  that,  and  you  know 
perfectly  well  that  your  words  are  not  true.” 

He  became  furious,  or  pretended  to  be  so.  “Well, 
then,”  he  said,  “if  you  wait  here  a moment,  I will  bring 
you  PolakofFs  written  statement  to  that  effect.  He  is  in 
the  next  room  under  examination.” 

“ Ready  to  wait  as  long  as  you  like.” 

I sat  on  a sofa,  smoking  countless  cigarettes.  The  state- 
ment did  not  come,  and  never  came. 

Of  course  there  was  no  such  statement.  I met  Polakdff 
in  1878  at  Geneva,  whence  we  made  a delightful  excursion 
to  the  Aletsch  glacier.  I need  not  say  that  his  answers  were 
what  I expected  them  to  he : he  denied  having  any  know- 
ledge of  the  letter  or  of  the  person  the  letters  V.  E.  repre- 
sented. Scores  of  books  used  to  be  taken  from  me  to  him, 
and  back  to  me,  and  the  letter  was  found  in  a book,  while 
the  envelope  was  discovered  in  the  pocket  of  an  old  coat. 
He  was  kept  several  weeks  under  arrest,  and  then  released, 
owing  to  the  intervention  of  his  scientific  friends.  V.  E. 
was  not  molested,  and  delivered  my  papers  in  due  time. 

I was  not  taken  back  to  my  cell,  but  half  an  hour  later 
the  procureur  came  in,  accompanied  by  a gendarme  officer. 
“ Our  examination,”  he  announced  to  me,  “ is  now  termi- 
nated ; you  will  be  removed  to  another  place.” 

Later  on,  each  time  I saw  him  I teased  him  with  the 
question : “ And  what  about  Polakdffs  statement  ? ” 

A four-wheeled  cab  stood  at  the  gate.  I was  asked  to 
enter  it,  and  a stout  gendarme  officer,  of  Circassian  origin, 
sat  by  my  side.  I spoke  to  him,  but  he  only  snored.  The 
cab  crossed  the  Chain  Bridge,  then  passed  the  parade 
grounds  and  ran  along  the  canals,  as  if  avoiding  the  more 


COMMITTED  TO  PRISON 


341 


frequented  thoroughfares.  “ Are  we  going  to  the  Litdv- 
skiy  prison  ? ” I asked  the  officer,  as  I knew  that  many  of 
my  comrades  were  already  there.  He  made  no  reply. 
The  system  of  absolute  silence  which  was  maintained  to- 
ward me  for  the  next  two  years  began  in  this  four-wheeled 
cab ; but  when  we  went  rolling  over  the  Palace  Bridge,  I 
understood  that  I was  on  the  way  to  the  fortress  of  St. 
Peter  and  St.  Paul. 

I admired  the  beautiful  river,  knowing  that  I should  not 
soon  see  it  again.  The  sun  was  going  down.  Thick  gray 
clouds  were  hanging  in  the  west  above  the  Gulf  of  Finland, 
while  light  clouds  floated  over  my  head,  showing  here  and 
there  patches  of  blue  sky.  Then  the  carriage  turned  to 
the  left  and  entered  a dark  arched  passage,  the  gate  of  the 
fortress. 

“ Now  I shall  have  to  remain  here  for  a couple  of  years,” 
I remarked  to  the  officer. 

“ No,  why  so  long  ? ” replied  the  Circassian,  who  now 
that  we  were  within  the  fortress  had  regained  the  power  of 
speech.  “ Your  affair  is  almost  terminated,  and  may  be 
brought  into  court  in  a fortnight.” 

“ My  affair,”  I replied,  “ is  very  simple  ; but  before 
bringing  me  to  a court  you  will  try  to  arrest  all  the  social- 
ists in  Russia,  and  they  are  many,  very  many  ; in  two  years 
you  will  not  have  done.”  I did  not  then  realize  how  pro- 
phetic my  remark  was. 

The  carriage  stopped  at  the  door  of  the  military  comman- 
der of  the  fortress,  and  we  entered  his  reception  hall.  Gen- 
eral Korsdkoff,  a thin  old  man,  came  in,  with  a peevish 
expression  on  his  face.  The  officer  spoke  to  him  in  a sub- 
dued voice,  and  the  old  man  answered,  “ All  right,”  look- 
ing at  him  with  a sort  of  scorn,  and  then  turned  his  eyes 
toward  me.  It  was  evident  that  he  was  not  at  all  pleased 
to  receive  a new  inmate,  and  that  he  felt  slightly  ashamed 
of  his  role ; but  he  seemed  to  add,  “ I am  a soldier,  and 


842 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


only  do  my  duty.”  Presently  we  got  into  the  carriage 
again,  but  soon  stopped  before  another  gate,  where  we  were 
kept  a long  time  until  a detachment  of  soldiers  opened  it 
from  the  inside.  Proceeding  on  foot  through  narrow  pas- 
sages we  came  to  a third  iron  gate,  opening  into  a dark 
arched  passage,  from  which  we  entered  a small  room  where 
darkness  and  dampness  prevailed. 

Several  non-commissioned  officers  of  the  fortress  troops 
moved  noiselessly  about  in  their  soft  felt  boots,  without 
speaking  a word,  while  the  governor  signed  the  Circassian’s 
book  acknowledging  the  reception  of  a new  prisoner.  I was 
required  to  take  off  all  my  clothes,  and  to  put  on  the  prison 
dress,  — a green  flannel  dressing-gown,  immense  woolen 
stockings  of  an  incredible  thickness,  and  boat-shaped  yellow 
slippers,  so  big  that  I could  hardly  keep  them  on  my  feet 
when  I tried  to  walk.  I always  hated  dressing-gowns  and 
slippers,  and  the  thick  stockings  inspired  me  with  disgust. 
I had  to  take  off  even  a silk  undergarment,  which  in  the 
damp  fortress  it  would  have  been  especially  desirable  to 
retain,  but  that  could  not  be  allowed.  I naturally  began 
to  protest  and  to  make  a noise  about  this,  and  after  an  hour 
or  so  it  was  restored  to  me  by  order  of  General  Kors&koff. 

Then  I was  taken  through  a dark  passage,  where  I saw 
armed  sentries  walking  about,  and  was  put  into  a cell.  A 
heavy  oak  door  was  shut  behind  me,  a key  turned  in  the 
lock,  and  I was  alone  in  a half-dark  room- 


PART  FIFTH 

THE  FORTRESS;  THE  ESCAPE 

I 

This  was,  then,  the  terrible  fortress  where  so  much  of 
the  true  strength  of  Russia  had  perished  during  the  last 
two  centuries,  and  the  very  name  of  which  is  uttered  in  St. 
Petersburg  in  a hushed  voice. 

Here  Peter  I.  tortured  his  son  Alexis  and  killed  him 
with  his  own  hand ; here  the  Princess  Tarakanova  was  kept 
in  a cell  which  filled  with  water  during  an  inundation,  — 
the  rats  climbing  upon  her  to  save  themselves  from  drown- 
ing; here  the  terrible  Minich  tortured  his  enemies,  and 
Catherine  II.  buried  alive  those  who  objected  to  her  having 
murdered  her  husband.  And  from  the  times  of  Peter  I.  for 
a hundred  and  seventy  years,  the  annals  of  this  mass  of 
stone  which  rises  from  the  Nevd  in  front  of  the  Winter 
Palace  were  annals  of  murder  and  torture,  of  men  buried 
alive,  condemned  to  a slow  death,  or  driven  to  insanity  in 
the  loneliness  of  the  dark  and  damp  dungeons. 

Here  the  Decembrists,  who  were  the  first  to  unfurl  in 
Russia  the  banner  of  republican  rule  and  the  abolition  of 
serfdom,  underwent  their  first  experiences  of  martyrdom, 
and  traces  of  them  may  still  be  found  in  the  Russian  Bas- 
tille. Here  were  imprisoned  the  poets  Ryl^eff  and  Shev- 
chenko,  Dostoevsky,  Bakiinin,  Chernyshevsky,  Pisareff,  and 
so  many  others  of  our  best  contemporary  writers.  Here 
Karakdzoff  was  tortured  and  hanged. 

Here,  somewhere  in  the  Alexis  ravelin,  is  still  kept 
Nech&ieff,  who  was  given  up  to  Russia  by  Switzerland  as  a 


344 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


common-law  criminal,  but  is  treated  as  a dangerous  political 
prisoner,  and  will  never  again  see  the  light.  In  the  same 
ravelin  are  also  two  or  three  men  whom,  rumor  says,  Alex- 
ander II.,  because  of  what  they  knew,  and  others  must  not 
know,  about  some  palace  mystery,  ordered  imprisoned  for 
/ife.  One  of  them,  adorned  with  a long  gray  beard,  was 
lately  seen  by  an  acquaintance  of  mine  in  the  mysterious 
fortress. 

All  these  shadows  rose  before  my  imagination.  But  my 
thoughts  fixed  especially  on  Bakunin,  who,  though  he  had 
been  shut  up  in  an  Austrian  fortress,  after  1848,  for  two 
years,  chained  to  the  wall,  and  then  handed  over  to  Nicholas 
I.,  who  kept  him  in  the  fortress  for  six  years  longer,  yet 
came  out,  when  the  Iron  Tsar’s  death  released  him,  fresher 
and  fuller  of  vigor  than  his  comrades  who  had  remained 
at  liberty.  “ He  has  lived  it  through,”  I said  to  myself, 
“and  I must,  too  : I will  not  succumb  here  ! ” 

My  first  movement  was  to  approach  the  window,  which 
was  placed  so  high  that  I could  hardly  reach  it  with  my 
lifted  band.  It  was  a long,  low  opening,  cut  in  a wall  five 
feet  thick,  and  protected  by  an  iron  grating  and  a double 
iron  window  frame.  At  a distance  of  a dozen  yards  from 
this  window  I saw  the  outer  wall  of  the  fortress,  of  immense 
thickness,  on  the  top  of  which  I could  make  out  a gray 
sentry  box.  Only  by  looking  upward  could  I perceive  a bit 
of  the  sky. 

I made  a minute  inspection  of  the  room  where  I had  now 
to  spend  no  one  could  say  how  many  years.  From  the 
position  of  the  high  chimney  of  the  Mint  I guessed  that 
I was  in  the  southwestern  corner  of  the  fortress,  in  a bas- 
tion overlooking  the  Neva.  The  building  in  which  I was 
incarcerated,  however,  was  not  the  bastion  itself,  but  what 
is  called  in  a fortification  a reduit ; that  is,  an  inner 
two-storied  pentagonal  piece  of  masonry  wrhich  rises  a little 
higher  than  the  walls  of  the  bastion,  and  is  meant  to  contain 


MY  PRISON  CELL 


345 


two  tiers  of  guns.  This  room  of  mine  was  a casemate 
destined  for  a big  gun,  and  the  window  was  an  embrasure. 
The  rays  of  the  sun  could  never  penetrate  it ; even  in  sum- 
mer they  were  lost  in  the  thickness  of  the  wall.  The  room 
held  an  iron  bed,  a small  oak  table,  and  an  oak  stool.  The 
floor  was  covered  with  painted  felt,  and  the  walls  with  yel- 
low paper.  However,  in  order  to  deaden  sounds,  the  paper 
was  not  put  on  the  wall  itself ; it  was  pasted  upon  canvas, 
and  behind  the  canvas  I discovered  a wire  grating,  back  of 
which  was  a layer  of  felt ; only  beyond  the  felt  could  I 
reach  the  stone  wall.  At  the  inner  side  of  the  room  there 
was  a washstand,  and  a thick  oak  door  in  which  I made  out 
a locked  opening,  for  passing  food  through,  and  a little  slit, 
protected  by  glass  and  by  a shutter  from  the  outside : this 
was  the  “Judas,”  through  which  the  prisoner  could  be  spied 
upon  at  every  moment.  The  sentry  who  stood  in  the  pas- 
sage frequently  lifted  the  shutter  and  looked  inside,  — his 
boots  squeaking  as  he  crept  toward  the  door.  I tried  to 
speak  to  him ; then  the  eye  which  I could  see  through  the 
slit  assumed  an  expression  of  terror  and  the  shutter  was 
immediately  let  down,  only  to  be  furtively  opened  a minute 
or  two  later ; but  I could  not  get  a word  of  response  from 
the  sentry. 

Absolute  silence  reigned  all  round.  I dragged  my  stool 
to  the  window  and  looked  upon  the  little  bit  of  sky  that  I 
could  see ; I tried  to  catch  any  sound  from  the  Neva  or  from 
the  town  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  river,  but  I could  not. 
This  dead  silence  began  to  oppress  me,  and  I tried  to  sing, 
softly  at  first,  and  louder  and  louder  afterwards. 

“ Have  I then  to  say  farewell  to  love  forever  ? ” I caught 
myself  singing  from  my  favorite  opera,  Glinka’s  “ Ruslan 
and  Ludmila.”  . . . 

“ Sir,  do  not  sing,  please,”  a bass  voice  said  through  th« 
food-window  in  my  door. 

“ I will  sing.” 


846 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


“ You  must  not.” 

“ I will  sing  nevertheless.” 

Then  came  the  governor,  who  tried  to  persuade  me  that 
I must  not  sing,  as  it  would  have  to  be  reported  to  the  com. 
mander  of  the  fortress,  and  so  on. 

“ But  my  throat  will  become  blocked  and  my  lungs  be- 
come  useless  if  I do  not  speak  and  cannot  sing,”  I tried  to 
argue. 

“ Better  try  to  sing  in  a lower  tone,  more  or  less  to  your- 
self,” said  the  old  governor  in  a supplicatory  manner. 

But  all  this  was  useless.  A few  days  later  I had  lost 
all  desire  to  sing.  I tried  to  do  it  on  principle,  hut  it  wa9 
of  no  avail. 

“ The  main  thing,”  I said  to  myself,  “ is  to  preserve  my 
physical  vigor.  I will  not  fall  ill.  Let  me  imagine  myself 
compelled  to  spend  a couple  of  years  in  a hut  in  the  far 
north,  during  an  arctic  expedition.  I will  take  plenty  of 
exercise,  practice  gymnastics,  and  not  let  myself  he  broken 
down  by  my  surroundings.  Ten  steps  from  one  comer  to 
the  other  is  already  something.  If  I repeat  them  one  hun- 
dred and  fifty  times,  I shall  have  walked  one  verst”  (two 
thirds  of  a mile).  I determined  to  walk  every  day  seven 
versts,  — about  five  miles : two  versts  in  the  morning,  two 
before  dinner,  two  after  dinner,  and  one  before  going  to 
sleep.  “If  I put  on  the  table  ten  cigarettes,  and  move  one 
of  them  each  time  that  I pass  the  table,  I shall  easily  count 
the  three  hundred  times  that  I must  walk  up  and  down.  I 
must  walk  rapidly,  but  turn  slowly  in  the  corner  to  avoid 
becoming  giddy,  and  turn  each  time  a different  way.  Then, 
twice  a day  I shall  practice  gymnastics  with  my  heavy  stool.” 
I lifted  it  by  one  leg,  holding  it  at  arm’s  length.  I turned 
it  like  a wheel,  and  soon  learned  to  throw  it  from  one  hand 
to  the  other,  over  my  head,  behind  my  back,  and  across  my 
legs. 

A few  hours  after  I had  been  brought  into  the  prison  the 


SUFFERING  FROM  FORCED  INACTIVITY 


347 


governor  came  to  offer  me  some  books,  and  among  them  was 
an  old  acquaintance  and  friend  of  mine,  the  first  volume  of 
George  Lewes’s  “ Physiology,”  in  a Russian  translation  ; but 
the  second  volume,  which  I especially  wanted  to  read  again, 
was  missing.  I asked,  of  course,  to  have  paper,  pen,  and 
ink,  but  was  absolutely  refused.  Pen  and  ink  are  never 
allowed  in  the  fortress,  unless  special  permission  is  obtained 
from  the  Emperor  himself.  I suffered  very  much  from  this 
forced  inactivity,  and  began  to  compose  in  my  imagination 
a series  of  novels  for  popular  reading,  taken  from  Russian 
history,  — something  like  Eugene  Sue’s  “ Mysteres  du 
Peuple.”  I made  up  the  plot,  the  descriptions,  the  dia- 
logues, and  tried  to  commit  the  whole  to  memory  from  the 
beginning  to  the  end.  One  can  easily  imagine  how  exhaust- 
ing such  a work  would  have  been  if  I had  had  to  continue 
it  for  more  than  two  or  three  months. 

But  my  brother  Alexander  obtained  pen  and  ink  for  me. 
One  day  I was  asked  to  enter  a four-wheeled  cab,  in  com- 
pany with  the  same  speechless  Georgian  gendarme  officer  of 
whom  I have  spoken  before.  I was  taken  to  the  Third 
Section,  where  I was  allowed  an  interview  with  my  brother, 
in  the  presence  of  two  gendarme  officers. 

Alexander  was  at  Zurich  when  I was  arrested.  From 
early  youth  he  had  longed  to  go  abroad,  where  men  think 
as  they  like,  read  what  they  like,  and  openly  express  their 
thoughts.  Russian  life  was  hateful  to  him.  Veracity  — - 
absolute  veracity  — and  the  most  open-hearted  frankness 
were  the  dominating  features  of  his  character.  He  could 
not  bear  deceit  or  even  conceit  in  any  form.  The  absence 
of  free  speech  in  Russia,  the  Russian  readiness  to  submit 
to  oppression,  the  veiled  words  to  which  our  writers  resort, 
were  utterly  repulsive  to  his  frank  and  open  nature.  Soon 
after  my  return  from  Western  Europe  he  removed  to  Swit- 
zerland, and  decided  to  settle  there.  After  he  had  lost  his 
two  children  — one  from  cholera  in  a few  hours,  and  the 


348 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


other  from  consumption  — St.  Petersburg  became  doubly 
repugnant  to  him. 

My  brother  did  not  take  part  in  our  work  of  agitation. 
He  did  not  believe  in  the  possibility  of  a popular  uprising, 
and  he  conceived  a revolution  only  as  the  action  of  a repre- 
sentative body,  like  the  National  Assembly  of  Prance  in 
1789.  As  for  the  socialist  agitation,  he  knew  it  only  by 
means  of  public  meetings  and  public  speeches,  — not  as  the 
secret,  minute  work  of  personal  propaganda  which  we  were 
carrying  on.  In  England  he  would  have  sided  with  John 
Bright  or  with  the  Chartists.  If  he  had  been  in  Paris 
during  the  uprising  of  June,  1848,  he  would  surely  have 
fought  with  the  last  handful  of  workers  behind  the  last 
barricade ; but  in  the  preparatory  period  he  would  have 
followed  Louis  Blanc  or  Ledru  Bollin. 

In  Switzerland  he  settled  at  Zurich,  and  his  sympathies 
went  with  the  moderate  wing  of  the  International.  Social- 
ist on  principle,  he  carried  out  his  principles  in  his  most 
frugal  and  laborious  mode  of  living,  toiling  on  passionately 
at  his  great  scientific  work,  — the  main  purpose  of  his  life, 
— a work  which  was  to  be  a nineteenth-century  counterpart 
to  the  famous  “ Tableau  de  la  Nature  ” of  the  Encyclopae- 
dists. He  soon  became  a close  personal  friend  of  the  old 
refugee  Colonel  P.  L.  Lavrdff,  with  whom  he  had  very 
much  in  common  in  his  Kantian  philosophical  views. 

When  he  learned  about  my  arrest,  Alexander  immedi- 
ately left  everything,  — the  work  of  his  life,  the  life  itself 
of  freedom  which  was  as  necessary  for  him  as  free  air  is 
necessary  for  a bird,  — and  returned  to  St.  Petersburg, 
which  he  disliked,  only  to  help  me  through  my  imprison- 
ment. 

We  were  both  very  much  affected  at  this  interview.  My 
brother  was  extremely  excited.  He  hated  the  very  sight  of 
the  blue  uniforms  of  the  gendarmes,  — those  executioners 
of  all  independent  thought  in  Russia,  — and  expressed  his 


PERMITTED  TO  RESUME  WORK 


349 


feeling  frankly  in  their  presence.  As  for  me,  the  sight  of 
him  at  St.  Petersburg  filled  me  with  the  most  dismal  ap- 
prehensions. I was  happy  to  see  his  honest  face,  his  eyes 
full  of  love,  and  to  hear  that  I should  see  them  once  a 
month ; and  yet  I wished  him  hundreds  of  miles  away  from 
that  place  to  which  he  came  free  that  day,  but  to  which 
he  would  inevitably  be  brought  some  night  under  an  escort 
of  gendarmes.  “ Why  did  you  come  into  the  lion’s  den  ? 
Go  back  at  once  ! ” my  whole  inner  self  cried ; and  yet  I 
knew  that  he  would  remain  as  long  as  I was  in  prison. 

He  understood  better  than  any  one  else  that  inactivity 
would  kill  me,  and  had  already  made  application  to  obtain 
for  me  permission  to  resume  work.  The  Geographical 
Society  wanted  me  to  finish  my  book  on  the  glacial  period, 
and  my  brother  turned  the  whole  scientific  world  in  St. 
Petersburg  upside  down  to  move  it  to  support  his  appli- 
cation. The  Academy  of  Sciences  was  interested  in  the 
matter ; and  finally,  two  or  three  months  after  my  im- 
prisonment, the  governor  entered  my  cell  and  announced  to 
me  that  I was  permitted  by  the  Emperor  to  complete  my 
report  to  the  Geographical  Society,  and  that  I should  be 
allowed  pen  and  ink  for  that  purpose.  “ Till  sunset  only,” 
he  added.  Sunset,  at  St.  Petersburg,  is  at  three  in  the 
afternoon,  in  winter  time ; but  that  could  not  be  helped. 
“ Till  sunset  ” were  the  words  used  by  Alexander  II.  when 
he  granted  the  permission. 


B 


So  I could  work  1 

I could  hardly  express  now  the  immensity  of  relief  ] 
then  felt  at  being  enabled  to  resume  writing.  I would  have 
consented  to  live  on  nothing  but  bread  and  water,  in  the 
dampest  of  cellars,  if  only  permitted  to  work. 

I was,  however,  the  only  prisoner  to  whom  writing  ma- 
terials were  allowed.  Several  of  my  comrades  spent  three 
years  and  more  in  confinement  before  the  famous  trial  of 
“ the  hundred  and  ninety-three  ” took  place,  and  all  they  had 
was  a slate.  Of  course,  even  the  slate  was  welcome  in  that 
dreary  loneliness,  and  they  used  it  to  write  exercises  in  the 
languages  they  were  learning,  or  to  work  out  mathematical 
problems  ; but  what  was  jotted  down  on  the  slate  could 
last  only  a few  hours. 

My  prison  life  now  took  on  a more  regular  character. 
There  was  something  immediate  to  live  for.  At  nine  in 
the  morning  I had  already  made  the  first  three  hundred 
pacings  across  my  cell,  and  was  waiting  for  my  pencils  and 
pens  to  be  delivered  to  me.  The  work  which  I had  pre- 
pared for  the  Geographical  Society  contained,  beside  a report 
of  my  explorations  in  Finland,  a discussion  of  the  bases 
upon  which  the  glacial  hypothesis  ought  to  rest.  Now, 
knowing  that  I had  plenty  of  time  before  me,  I decided  to 
rewrite  and  enlarge  that  part  of  my  work.  The  Academy 
of  Sciences  put  its  admirable  library  at  my  service,  and  a 
corner  of  my  cell  soon  filled  up  with  books  and  maps,  includ- 
ing the  whole  of  the  Swedish  Geological  Survey  publica- 
tions, a nearly  complete  collection  of  reports  of  all  arctic 
travels,  and  whole  sets  of  the  Quarterly  Journal  of  the 


BEADING  AND  WRITING  IN  PRISON 


351 


London  Geological  Society.  My  book  grew  in  the  for- 
tress to  the  size  of  two  large  volumes.  The  first  of  them 
was  printed  by  my  brother  and  Polakoff  (in  the  Geographi- 
cal Society’s  Memoirs)  ; while  the  second,  not  quite  finished, 
remained  in  the  hands  of  the  Third  Section  when  I ran 
away.  The  manuscript  was  found  only  in  1895,  and  given 
to  the  Russian  Geographical  Society,  by  whom  it  was  for- 
warded to  me  in  London. 

At  five  in  the  afternoon,  — at  three  in  the  winter,  — as 
soon  as  the  tiny  lamp  was  brought  in,  my  pencils  and  pens 
were  taken  away,  and  I had  to  stop  work.  Then  I used 
to  read,  mostly  books  of  history.  Quite  a library  had  been 
formed  in  the  fortress  by  the  generations  of  political  pris- 
oners who  had  been  confined  there.  I was  allowed  to  add 
to  the  library  a number  of  staple  works  on  Russian  history, 
and  with  the  books  which  were  brought  to  me  by  my  rela- 
tives I was  enabled  to  read  almost  every  work  and  collec- 
tion of  acts  and  documents  bearing  on  the  Moscow  period 
of  the  history  of  Russia.  I relished,  in  reading,  not  only 
the  Russian  annals,  especially  the  admirable  annals  of  the 
democratic  mediaeval  republic  of  Pskov,  — the  best,  per- 
haps, in  Europe  for  the  history  of  that  type  of  mediaeval 
cities,  — but  all  sorts  of  dry  documents,  and  even  the  Lives 
of  the  Saints,  which  occasionally  contain  facts  of  the  real 
life  of  the  masses  which  cannot  be  found  elsewhere.  I also 
read  during  this  time  a great  number  of  novels,  and  even 
arranged  for  myself  a treat  on  Christmas  Eve.  My  rela- 
tives managed  to  send  me  then  the  Christmas  stories  of 
Dickens,  and  I spent  the  festival  laughing  and  crying  over 
those  beautiful  creations  of  the  great  novelist. 


Ill 


The  worst  was  the  silence,  as  of  the  grave,  which  reigned 
about  me.  In  vain  I knocked  on  the  walls  and  struck  the 
floor  with  my  foot,  listening  for  the  faintest  sound  in  reply. 
None  was  to  be  heard.  One  month  passed,  then  two,  three, 
fifteen  months,  but  there  was  no  reply  to  my  knocks.  We 
were  only  six  then,  scattered  among  thirty-six  casemates, 
— all  my  arrested  comrades  being  kept  in  the  Litdvskiy 
Zamok  prison.  When  the  non-commissioned  officer  entered 
my  cell  to  take  me  out  for  a walk,  and  I asked  him,  “ What 
kind  of  weather  have  we  ? Does  it  rain  ? ” he  cast  a fur- 
tive side  glance  at  me,  and  without  saying  a word  promptly 
retired  behind  the  door,  where  a sentry  and  another  non- 
commissioned officer  kept  watch  upon  him.  The  only  liv- 
ing being  from  whom  I could  hear  even  a few  words  was 
the  governor,  who  came  to  my  cell  every  morning  to  say 
“ good-morning  ” and  ask  whether  I wanted  to  buy  tobacco 
or  paper.  I tried  to  engage  him  in  conversation  ; but  he 
also  cast  furtive  glances  at  the  non-commissioned  officers 
who  stood  in  the  half-opened  door,  as  if  to  say,  “ You  see, 
I am  watched,  too.”  Only  the  pigeons  were  not  afraid  to 
hold  intercourse  with  me.  Every  morning  and  afternoon 
they  came  to  my  window  to  receive  their  food  through  the 
grating. 

There  were  no  sounds  whatever  except  the  squeak  of  the 
sentry’s  boots,  the  hardly  perceptible  noise  of  the  shutter 
of  the  Judas,  and  the  ringing  of  the  bells  on  the  for- 
tress cathedral.  They  rang  a “ Lord  save  me  ” (“  Gospodi 
pomflui  ” ) every  quarter  of  an  hour,  — one,  two,  three, 
four  times.  Then,  each  hour,  the  big  bell  struck  slowly, 


MORNING  WALKS  IN  THE  PRISON  YARD  353 


with  long  intervals  between  successive  strokes.  A lugu* 
brious  canticle  followed,  chimed  by  the  bells,  which  at  every 
sudden  change  of  temperature  went  out  of  tune,  making  at 
such  times  a horrible  cacophony  which  sounded  like  the 
ringing  of  bells  at  a burial.  At  the  gloomy  hour  of  mid- 
night, the  canticle,  moreover,  was  followed  by  the  discord- 
ant notes  of  a “ God  save  the  Tsar.”  The  ringing  lasted 
a full  quarter  of  an  hour ; and  no  sooner  had  it  come  to  an 
end  than  a new  “ Lord  save  me  ” announced  to  the  sleep- 
less prisoner  that  a quarter  of  an  hour  of  his  uselessly  spent 
life  had  gone  in  the  meantime,  and  that  many  quarters  of 
an  hour,  and  hours,  and  days,  and  months  of  the  same  vege- 
tative life  would  pass,  before  his  keepers,  or  maybe  death, 
would  release  him. 

Every  morning  I was  taken  out  for  a half-hour’s  walk  in 
the  prison  yard.  This  yard  was  a small  pentagon  with  a 
narrow  pavement  round  it,  and  a little  building  — the  bath 
house  — in  the  middle.  But  I liked  those  walks. 

The  need  of  new  impressions  is  so  great  in  prison  that, 
when  I walked  in  our  narrow  yard,  I always  kept  my  eyes 
fixed  upon  the  high  gilt  spire  of  the  fortress  cathedral. 
This  was  the  only  thing  in  my  surroundings  which  changed 
its  aspect,  and  I liked  to  see  it  glittering  like  pure  gold 
when  the  sun  shone  from  a clear  blue  sky,  or  assuming  a 
fairy  aspect  when  a light  bluish  haze  lay  upon  the  town,  or 
becoming  steel  gray  when  dark  clouds  obscured  the  sky. 

During  these  walks  I occasionally  saw  the  daughter  of 
the  governor,  a girl  of  eighteen  or  nineteen,  as  she  came 
out  from  her  father’s  apartment  and  had  to  walk  a few  steps 
in  our  yard  in  order  to  reach  the  entrance  gate,  the  only 
issue  from  the  building.  She  always  hurried  along,  with 
her  eyes  cast  down,  as  if  she  felt  ashamed  of  being  the 
daughter  of  a jailer.  Her  younger  brother,  on  the  con- 
trary, a cadet  whom  I also  saw  once  or  twice  in  the  yard, 
always  looked  straight  in  my  face  with  such  a frank  ex- 


S54 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


pression  of  sympathy  that  I was  struck  with  it  and  even 
mentioned  it  to  some  one  after  my  release.  Four  or  five 
years  later,  when  he  was  already  an  officer,  he  was  exiled 
to  Siberia.  He  had  joined  the  revolutionary  party,  and 
must  have  helped,  I suppose,  to  carry  on  correspondence 
with  prisoners  in  the  fortress. 

Winter  is  gloomy  at  St.  Petersburg  for  those  who  cannot 
be  out  in  the  brightly  lighted  streets.  It  was  still  gloomier, 
of  course,  in  a casemate.  But  dampness  was  even  worse 
than  darkness.  The  casemates  are  so  damp  that  in  order 
to  drive  away  moisture  they  must  be  overheated,  and  I felt 
almost  suffocated ; but  when  at  last  I obtained  my  request, 
that  the  temperature  should  be  kept  lower  than  before,  the 
outer  wall  became  dripping  with  moisture,  and  the  paper 
was  as  if  a pail  of  water  had  been  poured  upon  it  every 
day,  — the  consequence  being  that  I suffered  a great  deal 
from  rheumatism. 

With  all  that  I was  cheerful,  continuing  to  write  and  to 
draw  maps  in  the  darkness,  sharpening  my  lead  pencils 
with  a broken  piece  of  glass  which  I had  managed  to  get 
hold  of  in  the  yard;  I faithfully  walked  my  five  miles  a 
day  in  the  cell,  and  performed  gymnastic  feats  with  my 
oak  stool.  Time  went  on.  But  then  sorrow  crept  into 
my  cell  and  nearly  broke  me  down.  My  brother  Alexander 
was  arrested. 

Toward  the  end  of  December,  1874,  I was  allowed  an 
interview  with  him  and  our  sister  Helene,  in  the  fortress, 
in  the  presence  of  a gendarme  officer.  Interviews,  granted 
at  long  intervals,  always  bring  both  the  prisoner  and  his 
relatives  into  a state  of  excitement.  One  sees  beloved  faces 
and  hears  beloved  voices,  knowing  that  the  vision  will  last 
but  a few  moments ; one  feels  so  near  to  the  other,  and  yet 
so  far  off,  as  there  can  be  no  intimate  conversation  before  a 
stranger,  an  enemy  and  a spy.  Besides,  my  brother  and 


ARREST  OF  MY  BROTHER 


353 


sister  felt  anxious  for  my  health,  upon  which  the  dark, 
gloomy  winter  days  and  the  dampness  had  already  marked 
their  first  effects.  We  parted  with  heavy  hearts. 

A week  after  that  interview  I received,  instead  of  an 
expected  letter  from  my  brother  concerning  the  printing  of 
my  book,  a short  note  from  Polakoff.  He  informed  me 
that  henceforward  he  would  read  the  proofs,  and  that  I should 
have  to  address  to  him  everything  relative  to  the  printing. 
From  the  very  tone  of  the  note  I understood  at  once  that 
something  must  he  wrong  with  my  brother.  If  it  were 
only  illness,  Polakoff  would  have  mentioned  it.  Days  of 
fearful  anxiety  came  upon  me.  Alexander  must  have  been 
arrested,  and  I must  have  been  the  cause  of  it ! Life 
suddenly  ceased  to  have  any  meaning  for  me.  My  walks, 
my  gymnastics,  my  work,  lost  interest.  All  the  day  long 
I went  ceaselessly  up  and  down  my  cell,  thinking  of  nothing 
hut  Alexander’s  arrest.  For  me,  an  unmarried  man,  im- 
prisonment was  only  personal  inconvenience ; but  he  was 
married,  he  passionately  loved  his  wife,  and  they  now  had 
a hoy,  upon  whom  they  had  concentrated  all  the  love  that 
they  had  felt  for  their  first  two  children. 

Worst  of  all  was  the  incertitude.  What  could  he  have 
done  ? For  what  reason  had  he  been  arrested  ? What 
were  they  going  to  do  with  him  ? Weeks  passed ; my 
anxiety  became  deeper  and  deeper ; but  there  was  no  news, 
till  at  last  I heard  in  a roundabout  way  that  he  had  been 
arrested  for  a letter  written  to  P.  L.  Lavrbff. 

I learned  the  details  much  later.  After  his  last  interview 
with  me  he  wrote  to  his  old  friend,  who  at  that  time  was 
editing  a Russian  socialist  review,  “ Forward,”  in  London. 
He  mentioned  in  this  letter  his  fears  about  my  health  ; he 
spoke  of  the  many  arrests  which  were  then  being  made  in 
Russia ; and  he  freely  expressed  his  hatred  of  the  despotic 
rule.  The  letter  was  intercepted  at  the  post-office  by  the 
Third  Section,  and  they  came  on  Christmas  Eve  to  search 


356 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


his  apartments.  They  carried  out  their  search  in  an  even 
more  brutal  manner  than  usual.  After  midnight  half  a 
dozen  men  made  an  irruption  into  his  flat,  and  turned 
everything  upside  down.  The  very  walls  were  examined ; 
the  sick  child  was  taken  out  of  its  bed,  that  the  bedding 
and  the  mattresses  might  be  inspected.  They  found  no- 
thing, — there  was  nothing  to  find. 

My  brother  very  much  resented  this  search.  With  his 
customary  frankness,  he  said  to  the  gendarme  officer  who 
conducted  it : “ Against  you,  captain,  I have  no  grievance. 
You  have  received  little  education,  and  you  hardly  under- 
stand what  you  are  doing.  But  you,  sir,”  he  continued, 
turning  towards  the  procureur,  “ you  know  what  part  you 
are  playing  in  these  proceedings.  You  have  received  a 
university  education.  You  know  the  law,  and  you  know 
that  you  are  trampling  all  law,  such  as  it  is,  under  your 
feet,  and  covering  the  lawlessness  of  these  men  by  your 
presence ; you  are  simply  — a scoundrel ! ” 

They  swore  hatred  against  him.  They  kept  him  im- 
prisoned in  the  Third  Section  till  May.  My  brother’s 
child  — a charming  boy,  whom  illness  had  rendered  still 
more  affectionate  and  intelligent  — was  dying  from  con- 
sumption. The  doctors  said  he  had  only  a few  days  more 
to  live.  Alexander,  who  had  never  asked  any  favor  of  his 
enemies,  asked  them  this  time  to  permit  him  to  see  his  child 
for  the  last  time.  He  begged  to  be  allowed  to  go  home  foi 
one  hour,  upon  his  word  of  honor  to  return,  or  to  be  taken 
there  under  escort.  They  refused.  They  could  not  deny 
themselves  that  vengeance. 

The  child  died,  and  its  mother  was  thrown  once  more 
into  a state  bordering  on  insanity  when  my  brother  was  told 
that  he  was  to  be  transported  to  East  Siberia,  to  a small 
town,  Minusinsk.  He  would  travel  in  a cart  between  two 
gendarmes,  and  his  wife  might  follow  later,  but  could  not 
travel  with  him. 


VINDICTIVENESS  OF  THE  THIRD  SECTION  357 


(t  Tell  me,  at  least,  what  is  my  crime,”  he  demanded ; 
but  there  was  no  accusation  of  any  sort  against  him  beyond 
the  letter.  This  transportation  appeared  so  arbitrary,  so 
much  an  act  of  mere  revenge  on  the  part  of  the  Third  Sec- 
tion, that  none  of  our  relatives  could  believe  that  the  exile 
would  last  more  than  a few  months.  My  brother  lodged 
a complaint  with  the  minister  of  the  interior.  The  reply 
was  that  the  minister  could  not  interfere  with  the  will  of 
the  chief  of  the  gendarmes.  Another  complaint  was  lodged 
with  the  Senate.  It  was  of  no  avail. 

A couple  of  years  later  our  sister  Helene,  acting  on  her 
own  initiative,  wrote  a petition  to  the  Tsar.  Our  cousin 
Dmitri,  governor-general  of  Kharkoff,  aide-de-camp  of  the 
Emperor,  and  a favorite  at  the  court,  also  deeply  incensed 
at  this  treatment  by  the  Third  Section,  handed  the  petition 
personally  to  the  Tsar,  and  in  so  doing  added  a few  words 
in  support  of  it.  But  the  vindictiveness  of  the  Romanoffs 
was  a family  trait  strongly  developed  in  Alexander  II.  He 
wrote  upon  the  petition,  “ Pust  posidit  ” (Let  him  remain 
some  time  more).  My  brother  stayed  in  Siberia  twelve 
years,  and  never  returned  to  Russia. 


IV 


The  countless  arrests  which  were  made  in  the  summer  of 
1874,  and  the  serious  turn  which  was  given  by  the  police  to 
the  prosecution  of  our  circle,  produced  a deep  change  in  the 
opinions  of  Russian  youth.  Up  to  that  time  the  prevailing 
idea  had  been  to  pick  out  among  the  workers,  and  eventually 
the  peasants,  a number  of  men  who  should  be  prepared  to 
become  socialistic  agitators.  But  the  factories  were  now 
flooded  with  spies,  and  it  was  evident  that,  do  what  they 
might,  both  propagandists  and  workers  would  very  soon  be 
arrested  and  hidden  forever  in  Siberia.  Then  began  a great 
movement  “ to  the  people  ” in  a new  form,  when  several 
hundred  young  men  and  women,  disregarding  all  precautions 
hitherto  taken,  rushed  to  the  country,  and,  traveling  through 
the  towns  and  villages,  incited  the  masses  to  revolution, 
almost  openly  distributing  pamphlets,  songs,  and  procla- 
mations. In  our  circles  this  summer  received  the  name  of 
“ the  mad  summer.” 

The  gendarmes  lost  their  heads.  They  had  not  hands 
enough  to  make  the  arrest  nor  eyes  enough  to  trace  the 
steps  of  every  propagandist.  Yet  not  less  than  fifteen  hun- 
dred persons  were  arrested  during  this  hunt,  and  half  of 
them  were  kept  in  prison  for  years. 

One  day  in  the  summer  of  1875,  in  the  cell  that  was  next 
to  mine,  I distinctly  heard  the  light  steps  of  heeled  boots, 
and  a few  minutes  later  I caught  fragments  of  a conver- 
sation. A feminine  voice  spoke  from  the  cell,  and  a deep 
bass  voice  — evidently  that  of  the  sentry  — grunted  some- 
thing in  reply.  Then  I recognized  the  sound  of  the  colonel’s 
spurs,  his  rapid  steps,  his  swearing  at  the  sentry,  and  the 


CONVERSING  THROUGH  PRISON  WALLS 


359 


click  of  the  key  in  the  lock.  He  said  something,  and  a 
feminine  voice  loudly  replied : “ We  did  not  talk.  I only 
asked  him  to  call  the  non-commissioned  officer.”  Then  the 
door  was  locked,  and  I heard  the  colonel  swearing  in 
whispers  at  the  sentry. 

So  I was  alone  no  more.  I had  a lady  neighbor,  who  at 
once  broke  down  the  severe  discipline  which  had  hitherto 
reigned  amongst  the  soldiers.  From  that  day  the  walls  of 
the  fortress,  which  had  been  mute  during  the  last  fifteen 
months,  became  animated.  From  all  sides  I heard  knocks 
with  the  foot  on  the  floor : one,  two,  three,  four,  . . . 
eleven  knocks,  twenty-four  knocks,  fifteen  knocks ; then 
an  interruption,  followed  by  three  knocks  and  a long  suc- 
cession of  thirty-three  knocks.  Over  and  over  again  these 
knocks  were  repeated  in  the  same  succession,  until  the 
neighbor  would  guess  at  last  that  they  were  meant  for 
“ Kto  vy  ? ” (Who  are  you  ?)  the  letter  v being  the  third 
letter  in  our  alphabet.  Thereupon  conversation  was  soon 
established,  and  usually  was  conducted  in  the  abridged 
alphabet ; that  is,  the  alphabet  being  divided  into  six  rows 
of  five  letters,  each  letter  is  marked  by  its  row  and  its  place 
in  the  row. 

I discovered  with  great  pleasure  that  I had  at  my  left  my 
friend  Serdukdff,  with  whom  I could  soon  talk  about  every- 
thing, especially  when  we  used  our  cipher.  But  intercourse 
with  men  brought  its  sufferings  as  well  as  its  joys.  Under- 
neath me  was  lodged  a peasant,  whom  Serdukoff  knew. 
He  talked  to  him  by  means  of  knocks ; and  even  against 
my  will,  often  unconsciously  during  my  work,  I followed 
their  conversations.  I also  spoke  to  him.  Now,  if  solitary 
confinement  without  any  sort  of  work  is  hard  for  educated 
men,  it  is  infinitely  harder  for  a peasant  who  is  accustomed 
to  physical  work,  and  not  at  all  wont  to  spend  years  in 
reading.  Our  peasant  friend  felt  quite  miserable,  and 
having  been  kept  for  nearly  two  years  in  another  prison 


360 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


before  he  was  brought  to  the  fortress,  — his  crime  was  that 
he  had  listened  to  socialists,  — he  was  already  broken  down. 
Soon  I began  to  notice,  to  my  terror,  that  from  time  to  time 
his  mind  wandered.  Gradually  his  thoughts  grew  more  and 
more  confused,  and  we  two  perceived,  step  by  step,  day  by 
day,  evidences  that  his  reason  was  failing,  until  his  talk 
became  at  last  that  of  a lunatic.  Frightful  noises  and  wild 
cries  came  next  from  the  lower  story ; our  neighbor  was 
mad,  but  was  still  kept  for  several  months  in  the  casemate 
before  he  was  removed  to  an  asylum,  from  which  he  never 
emerged.  To  witness  the  destruction  of  a man’s  mind, 
under  such  conditions,  was  terrible.  I am  sure  it  must  have 
contributed  to  increase  the  nervous  irritability  of  my  good 
and  true  friend  Serdukdff.  When,  after  four  years  of  im- 
prisonment, he  was  acquitted  by  the  court  and  released,  he 
shot  himself. 

One  day  I received  a quite  unexpected  visit.  The  Grand 
Duke  Nicholas,  brother  of  Alexander  IL,  who  was  inspect- 
ing  the  fortress,  entered  my  cell,  followed  only  by  his  aide- 
de-camp.  The  door  was  shut  behind  him.  He  rapidly 
approached  me,  saying,  “ Good-day,  Kropdtkin.”  He  knew 
me  personally,  and  spoke  in  a familiar,  good-natured  tone,  as 
to  an  old  acquaintance.  “ How  is  it  possible,  Kropdtkin, 
that  you,  a page  de  chambre,  a sergeant  of  the  corps  of  pages, 
should  be  mixed  up  in  this  business,  and  now  be  here  in 
this  horrible  casemate  ? ” 

“ Every  one  has  his  own  opinions,”  was  my  reply. 

u Opinions ! So  your  opinions  were  that  you  must  stir 
up  a revolution  ? ” 

What  was  I to  reply  ? Yes  ? Then  the  construction 
which  would  be  put  upon  my  answer  would  be  that  I,  who 
had  refused  to  give  any  answers  to  the  gendarmes,  “ avowed 
everything  ” before  the  brother  of  the  Tsar.  His  tone  was 
that  of  a commander  of  a military  school  when  trying  to 


AN  UNEXPECTED  VISIT 


361 


obtain  “ avowals  ” from  a cadet.  Yet  I could  not  say  No : 
it  would  have  been  a lie.  I did  not  know  what  to  say,  and 
stood  without  saying  anything. 

“ You  see  ! You  feel  ashamed  of  it  now  ” — 

This  remark  angered  me,  and  I at  once  said  in  a rather 
sharp  way,  “I  have  given  my  replies  to  the  examining 
magistrate,  and  have  nothing  to  add.” 

“ But  understand,  Kropdtkin,  please,”  he  said  then,  in  the 
most  familiar  tone,  “ that  I don’t  speak  to  you  as  an  examin- 
ing magistrate.  I speak  quite  as  a private  person,  — quite 
as  a private  man,”  he  repeated,  lowering  his  voice. 

Thoughts  went  whirling  in  my  head.  To  play  the  part 
of  Marquis  Posa  ? To  tell  the  Emperor  through  the  grand 
duke  of  the  desolation  of  Russia,  the  ruin  of  the  peasantry, 
the  arbitrariness  of  the  officials,  the  terrible  famines  in  pro- 
spect ? To  say  that  we  wanted  to  help  the  peasants  out  of 
their  desperate  condition,  to  make  them  raise  their  heads, 
and  by  all  this  try  to  influence  Alexander  II.  ? These 
thoughts  followed  one  another  in  rapid  succession,  till  at 
last  I said  to  myself  : “ Never  ! Nonsense ! They  know  all 
that.  They  are  enemies  of  the  nation,  and  such  talk  would 
not  change  them.” 

I replied  that  he  always  remained  an  official  person,  and 
that  I could  not  look  upon  him  as  a private  man. 

He  then  began  to  ask  me  indifferent  questions.  “Was 
it  not  in  Siberia,  with  the  Decembrists,  that  you  began  to 
entertain  such  ideas  ? ” 

“ No ; I knew  only  one  Decembrist,  and  with  him  I had 
no  talks  worth  speaking  of.” 

“ Was  it  then  at  St.  Petersburg  that  you  got  them  ? ” 

“ I was  always  the  same.” 

“ Why  ! Were  you  such  in  the  corps  of  pages  ? ” he 
asked  me  with  terror. 

“ In  the  corps  I was  a boy,  and  what  is  indefinite  in 
boyhood  grows  definite  in  manhood.” 


862 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


He  asked  me  some  other  similar  questions,  and  as  h* 
spoke  I distinctly  saw  what  he  was  driving  at.  He  was 
trying  to  obtain  avowals,  and  my  imagination  vividly  pic- 
tured him  saying  to  his  brother  : “ All  these  examining 
magistrates  are  imbeciles.  He  gave  them  no  replies,  but 
I talked  to  him  ten  minutes,  and  he  told  me  everything.” 
That  began  to  annoy  me ; and  when  he  said  to  me  some- 
thing to  this  effect,  “ How  could  you  have  anything  to 
do  with  all  these  people,  — peasants  and  people  with  no 
names  ? ” — I sharply  turned  upon  him  and  said,  “ I have 
told  you  already  that  I have  given  my  replies  to  the  ex- 
amining magistrate.”  Then  he  abruptly  left  the  cell. 

Later,  the  soldiers  of  the  guard  made  quite  a legend  of 
that  visit.  The  person  who  came  in  a carriage  to  carry  me 
away  at  the  time  of  my  escape  wore  a military  cap,  and, 
having  sandy  whiskers,  bore  a faint  resemblance  to  the 
Grand  Duke  Nicholas.  So  a tradition  grew  up  amongst 
the  soldiers  of  the  St.  Petersburg  garrison  that  it  was  the 
grand  duke  himself  who  came  to  rescue  me  and  kidnapped 
me.  Thus  are  legends  created  even  in  times  of  newspapers 
find  biographical  dictionaries. 


V 


Two  years  had  passed.  Several  of  my  comrades  ha<i 
died,  several  had  become  insane,  but  nothing  was  heard  yet 
of  our  case  coming  before  a court. 

My  health  gave  way  before  the  end  of  the  second  year. 
fhe  oak  stool  now  seemed  heavy  in  my  hand,  and  the  five 
miles  became  an  endless  distance.  As  there  were  about 
sixty  of  us  in  the  fortress,  and  the  winter  days  were  short, 
we  were  taken  out  for  a walk  in  the  yard  for  twenty 
minutes  only  every  third  day.  I did  my  best  to  maintain 
my  energy,  but  the  “ arctic  wintering  ” without  an  inter- 
ruption in  the  summer  got  the  better  of  me.  I had  brought 
back  from  my  Siberian  journeys  slight  symptoms  of  scurvy  ; 
now,  in  the  darkness  and  dampness  of  the  casemate,  they 
developed  more  distinctly ; that  scourge  of  the  prisons  had 
got  hold  of  me. 

In  March  or  April,  1876,  we  were  at  last  told  that  the 
Third  Section  had  completed  the  preliminary  inquest.  The 
“ case  ” had  been  transmitted  to  the  judicial  authorities, 
and  consequently  we  were  removed  to  a prison  attached  to 
the  court  of  justice,  — the  house  of  detention. 

It  was  an  immense  show  prison,  recently  built  on  the 
model  of  the  French  and  Belgian  prisons,  consisting  of  four 
stories  of  small  cells,  each  of  which  had  a window  overlook- 
ing an  inner  yard  and  a door  opening  on  an  iron  balcony  ; 
the  balconies  of  the  several  stories  were  connected  by  iron 
staircases. 

For  most  of  my  comrades  the  transfer  to  this  prison  was 
a great  relief.  There  was  much  more  life  in  it  than  in  the 
fortress;  more  opportunity  for  correspondence,  for  seeing 


364 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


one’s  relatives,  and  for  mutual  intercourse.  Tapping  on 
the  walls  continued  all  day  long  undisturbed,  and  I was 
able  in  this  way  to  relate  to  a young  neighbor  the  history 
of  the  Paris  Commune  from  the  beginning  to  the  end.  It 
took,  however,  a whole  week’s  tapping. 

As  to  my  health,  it  grew  even  worse  than  it  had  lately 
been  in  the  fortress.  I could  not  hear  the  close  atmosphere 
of  the  tiny  cell,  which  measured  only  four  steps  from  one 
corner  to  another,  and  where,  as  soon  as  the  steampipes 
were  set  to  work,  the  temperature  changed  from  a glacial 
cold  to  an  unbearable  heat.  Having  to  turn  so  often,  I be- 
came giddy  after  a few  minutes’  walk,  and  ten  minutes  of 
outdoor  exercise,  in  the  corner  of  a yard  inclosed  between 
high  brick  wails,  did  not  refresh  me  in  the  least.  As  to 
the  prison  doctor,  who  did  not  want  to  hear  the  word 
“scurvy”  pronounced  “in  his  prison,”  the  less  said  of  him 
the  better. 

I was  allowed  to  receive  food  from  home,  it  so  happen- 
ing that  one  of  my  relatives,  married  to  a lawyer,  lived  a 
few  doors  from  the  court.  But  my  digestion  had  become  so 
bad  that  I was  soon  able  to  eat  nothing  but  a small  piece 
of  bread  and  one  or  two  eggs  a day.  My  strength  rapidly 
failed,  and  the  general  opinion  was  that  I should  not  live 
more  than  a few  months.  When  climbing  the  staircase 
which  led  to  my  cell  in  the  second  story,  I had  to  stop  two 
or  three  times  to  rest,  and  I remember  an  elderly  soldier 
from  the  escort  once  commiserating  me  and  saying,  “ Poor 
man,  you  won’t  live  till  the  end  of  the  summer.” 

My  relatives  now  became  very  much  alarmed.  My  sister 
Helene  tried  to  obtain  my  release  on  bail,  but  the  procu- 
reur,  Shubin,  replied  to  her,  with  a sardonic  smile,  “ If 
you  bring  me  a doctor’s  certificate  that  he  will  die  in  ten 
days,  I will  release  him.”  He  had  the  satisfaction  of  see- 
ing my  sister  fall  into  a chair  and  sob  aloud  in  his  presence. 
She  succeeded,  however,  in  gaining  her  request  that  I should 


IN  THE  MILITARY  HOSPITAL 


365 


be  visited  by  a good  physician,  — the  chief  doctor  of  the 
military  hospital  of  the  St.  Petersburg  garrison.  He  was 
a bright,  intelligent,  aged  general,  who  examined  me  in  the 
most  scrupulous  manner,  and  concluded  that  I had  no  organic 
disease,  but  was  suffering  simply  from  a want  of  oxidation 
of  the  blood.  “Air  is  all  that  you  want,”  he  said.  Then 
he  stood  a few  moments  in  hesitation,  and  added  in  a de- 
cided manner,  “ No  use  talking,  you  cannot  remain  here ; ' 
you  must  be  transferred.” 

Some  ten  days  later  I was  transferred  to  the  military 
hospital,  which  is  situated  on  the  outskirts  of  St.  Peters- 
burg, and  has  a special  small  prison  for  the  officers  and 
soldiers  who  fall  ill  when  they  are  under  trial.  Two  of 
my  comrades  had  already  been  removed  to  this  hospital 
prison,  when  it  was  certain  that  they  would  soon  die  of 
consumption. 

In  the  hospital  I began  at  once  to  recover.  I was  given 
a spacious  room  on  the  ground  floor,  close  by  the  room  of 
the  military  guard.  It  had  an  immense  grated  window 
looking  south,  which  opened  on  a small  boulevard  with  two 
rows  of  trees ; and  beyond  the  boulevard  there  was  a wide 
space  where  two  hundred  carpenters  were  engaged  in  build- 
ing wooden  shanties  for  typhoid  patients.  Every  evening 
they  gave  an  hour  or  so  to  singing  in  chorus,  — such  a 
chorus  as  is  formed  only  in  large  carpenters’  artels.  A sen- 
try marched  up  and  down  the  boulevard,  his  box  standing 
opposite  my  room. 

My  window  was  kept  open  all  the  day,  and  I battened 
in  the  rays  of  the  sun,  which  I had  missed  for  such  a long 
time.  I breathed  the  balmy  air  of  May  with  a full  chest, 
and  my  health  improved  rapidly,  — too  rapidly,  I began  to 
think.  I was  soon  able  to  digest  light  food,  gained  strength, 
and  resumed  my  work  with  renewed  energy.  Seeing  no 
way  in  which  I could  finish  the  second  volume  of  my  work, 


366 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


I wrote  a resume  of  it,  which  was  printed  in  the  first 
volume. 

In  the  fortress  I had  heard  from  a comrade  who  had 
been  in  the  hospital  prison  that  it  would  not  be  hard  for 
me  to  escape  from  it,  and  I made  my  presence  there  known 
to  my  friends.  However,  escape  proved  far  more  difficult 
than  I had  been  led  to  believe.  A stricter  supervision 
than  had  ever  before  been  heard  of  was  exercised  over  me. 
The  sentry  in  the  passage  was  placed  at  my  door,  and  I was 
never  let  out  of  my  room.  The  hospital  soldiers  and  the 
officers  of  the  guard  who  occasionally  entered  it  seemed  to 
be  afraid  to  stay  more  than  a minute  or  two. 

Various  plans  were  made  by  my  friends  to  liberate  me, 
— some  of  them  very  amusing.  I was,  for  instance,  to 
file  through  the  iron  bars  of  my  window.  Then,  on  a rainy 
night,  when  the  sentry  on  the  boulevard  was  dozing  in  his 
box,  two  friends  were  to  creep  up  from  behind  and  over- 
turn the  box,  so  that  it  would  fall  upon  the  sentry  and  catch 
him  like  a mouse  in  a trap,  without  hurting  him.  In  the 
meantime,  I was  to  jump  out  of  the  window.  But  a better 
solution  came  in  an  unexpected  way. 

“ Ask  to  be  let  out  for  a walk,”  one  of  the  soldiers  whis- 
pered to  me  one  day.  I did  so.  The  doctor  supported  my 
demand,  and  every  afternoon,  at  four,  I was  allowed  to  take 
an  hour’s  walk  in  the  prison  yard.  I had  to  keep  on  the 
green  flannel  dressing-gown  which  is  worn  by  the  hospital 
patients,  but  my  boots,  my  vest,  and  my  trousers  were 
delivered  to  me  every  day. 

I shall  never  forget  my  first  walk.  When  I was  taken 
out,  I saw  before  me  a yard  full  three  hundred  paces  long 
and  more  than  two  hundred  paces  wide,  all  covered  with 
grass.  The  gate  was  open,  and  through  it  I could  see  the 
street,  the  immense  hospital  opposite,  and  the  people  who 
passed  by.  I stopped  on  the  doorsteps  of  the  prison,  unable 
for  a moment  to  move  when  I saw  that  yard  and  that  gate. 


PLANNING  TO  ESCAPE 


367 


At  one  end  of  the  yard  stood  the  prison,  — a narrow 
building,  about  one  hundred  and  fifty  paces  long,  — at  each 
end  of  which  was  a sentry  box.  The  two  sentries  paced  up 
and  down  in  front  of  the  building,  and  had  tramped  out  a 
footpath  in  the  green.  Along  this  footpath  I was  told  to 
walk,  and  the  two  sentries  continued  to  walk  up  and  down, 
— so  that  I was  never  more  than  ten  or  fifteen  paces  from 
the  one  or  the  other.  Three  hospital  soldiers  took  their 
seats  on  the  doorsteps. 

At  the  opposite  end  of  this  spacious  yard  wood  for  fuel 
was  being  unloaded  from  a dozen  carts,  and  piled  up  along 
the  wall  by  a dozen  peasants.  The  whole  yard  was  inclosed 
by  a high  fence  made  of  thick  boards.  Its  gate  was  open 
to  let  the  carts  in  and  out. 

This  open  gate  fascinated  me.  “ I must  not  stare  at  it,” 
I said  to  myself ; and  yet  I looked  at  it  all  the  time.  As 
soon  as  I was  taken  back  to  my  cell  I wrote  to  my  friends 
to  communicate  to  them  the  welcome  news.  “ I feel  well- 
nigh  unable  to  use  the  cipher,”  I wrote  with  a tremulous 
hand,  tracing  almost  illegible  signs  instead  of  figures. 
“ This  nearness  of  liberty  makes  me  tremble  as  if  I were  in 
a fever.  They  took  me  out  to-day  in  the  yard  ; its  gate 
was  open,  and  no  sentry  near  it.  Through  this  unguarded 
gate  I will  run  out ; my  sentries  will  not  catch  me,”  — and 
I gave  the  plan  of  the  escape.  “ A lady  is  to  come  in  an 
open  carriage  to  the  hospital.  She  is  to  alight,  and  the  car- 
riage to  wait  for  her  in  the  street,  some  fifty  paces  from  the 
gate.  When  I am  taken  out,  at  four,  I shall  walk  for  a 
while  with  my  hat  in  my  hand,  and  somebody  who  passes 
by  the  gate  will  take  it  as  the  signal  that  all  is  right  within 
the  prison.  Then  you  must  return  a signal : ‘ The  street 
is  clear.’  Without  it  I shall  not  start ; once  beyond  the 
gate  I must  not  be  recaptured.  Light  or  sound  only  can 
be  used  for  your  signal.  The  coachman  may  send  a flash 
of  light,  — the  sun’s  rays  reflected  from  his  lacquered  hat 


868 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


upon  the  main  hospital  building ; or,  still  better,  the  sound  of 
a song  continued  as  long  as  the  street  is  clear ; unless  you 
can  occupy  the  little  gray  bungalow  which  I see  from  the 
yard,  and  signal  to  me  from  its  window.  The  sentry  will  run 
after  me  like  a dog  after  a hare,  describing  a curve,  while  I 
run  in  a straight  line,  and  I will  keep  five  or  ten  paces  in 
advance  of  him.  In  the  street,  I shall  spring  into  the  car- 
riage and  we  shall  gallop  away.  If  the  sentry  shoots  — 
well,  that  cannot  be  helped  ; it  lies  beyond  our  foresight ; 
and  then,  against  a certain  death  in  prison,  the  thing  is 
well  worth  the  risk.” 

Counter  proposals  were  made,  but  that  plan  was  ultimately 
adopted.  The  matter  was  taken  in  hand  by  our  circle  ; 
people  who  never  had  known  me  entered  into  it,  as  if  it 
were  the  release  of  the  dearest  of  their  brothers.  However, 
the  attempt  was  beset  with  difficulties,  and  time  went  with 
terrible  rapidity.  I worked  hard,  writing  late  at  night ; 
but  my  health  improved,  nevertheless,  at  a speed  which  I 
found  appalling.  When  I was  let  out  into  the  yard  for 
the  first  time,  I could  only  creep  like  a tortoise  along  the 
footpath ; now  I felt  strong  enough  to  run.  True,  I con- 
tinued to  go  at  the  same  tortoise  pace,  lest  my  walks  should 
be  stopped ; but  my  natural  vivacity  might  betray  me  at 
any  moment.  And  my  comrades,  in  the  mean  time,  had 
to  enlist  more  than  a score  of  people  in  the  affair,  to  find  a 
reliable  horse  and  an  experienced  coachman,  and  to  arrange 
hundreds  of  unforeseen  details  which  always  spring  up 
around  such  conspiracies.  The  preparations  took  a month 
or  so,  and  any  day  I might  be  moved  back  to  the  house  ol 
detention. 

At  last  the  day  of  the  escape  was  settled.  June  29,  Old 
Style,  is  the  day  of  St.  Peter  and  St.  Paul.  My  friends, 
throwing  a touch  of  sentimentalism  into  their  enterprise, 
wanted  to  set  me  free  on  that  day.  They  had  let  ms 


A FORTUNATE  FAILURE 


369 


know  that  in  reply  to  my  signal  “ All  right  within  ” they 
would  signal  “ All  right  outside  ” by  sending  up  a red  toy 
balloon.  Then  the  carriage  would  come,  and  a song  would 
be  sung  to  let  me  know  when  the  street  was  open. 

I went  out  on  the  29th,  took  off  my  hat,  and  waited  for 
the  balloon.  But  nothing  of  the  kind  was  to  be  seen. 
Half  an  hour  passed.  I heard  the  rumble  of  a carriage  in 
the  street ; I heard  a man’s  voice  singing  a song  unknown 
to  me ; but  there  was  no  balloon. 

The  hour  was  over,  and  with  a broken  heart  I returned 
to  my  room.  “ Something  must  have  gone  wrong,”  I said 
to  myself. 

The  impossible  had  happened  that  day.  Hundreds  of 
children’s  balloons  are  always  on  sale  in  St.  Petersburg, 
near  the  Gostmoi  Dvor.  That  morning  there  were  none ; 
not  a single  balloon  was  to  be  found.  One  was  discovered 
at  last,  in  the  possession  of  a child,  but  it  was  old  and 
would  not  fly.  My  friends  rushed  then  to  an  optician’s 
shop,  bought  an  apparatus  for  making  hydrogen,  and  filled 
the  balloon  with  it ; but  it  would  not  fly  any  better : the 
hydrogen  had  not  been  dried.  Time  pressed.  Then  a lady 
attached  the  balloon  to  her  umbrella,  and,  holding  the  um- 
brella high  over  her  head,  walked  up  and  down  in  the  street 
along  the  high  wall  of  our  yard  ; but  I saw  nothing  of  it, 
— the  wall  being  too  high,  and  the  lady  too  short. 

As  it  turned  out,  nothing  could  have  been  better  than 
that  accident  with  the  balloon.  When  the  hour  of  my  walk 
had  passed,  the  carriage  was  driven  along  the  streets  which 
it  was  intended  to  follow  after  the  escape  ; and  there,  in  a 
narrow  street,  it  was  stopped  by  a dozen  or  more  carts  which 
were  carrying  wood  to  the  hospital.  The  horses  of  the 
carts  got  into  disorder,  — some  of  them  on  the  right  side 
of  the  street,  and  some  on  the  left,  — and  the  carriage  had 
to  make  its  way  at  a slow  pace  amongst  them ; at  a turning 
it  was  actually  blocked.  If  I had  been  in  it,  we  should 
have  been  caught. 


370 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


Now  a whole  system  of  signals  was  established  along  the 
streets  through  which  we  should  have  to  go  after  the  escape, 
in  order  to  give  notice  if  the  streets  were  not  clear.  For  a 
couple  of  miles  from  the  hospital  my  comrades  took  the 
position  of  sentries.  One  was  to  walk  up  and  down  with 
a handkerchief  in  his  hand,  which  at  the  approach  of  the 
carts  he  was  to  put  into  his  pocket ; another  was  to  sit  on 
a stone  and  eat  cherries,  stopping  when  the  carts  came  near ; 
and  so  on.  All  these  signals,  transmitted  along  the  streets, 
were  finally  to  reach  the  carriage.  My  friends  had  also  hired 
the  gray  bungalow  that  I had  seen  from  the  yard,  and  at  an 
open  window  of  that  little  house  a violinist  stood  with  his 
violin,  ready  to  play  when  the  signal  “Street  clear”  reached 
him. 

The  attempt  had  been  settled  for  the  next  day.  Further 
postponement  would  have  been  dangerous.  In  fact,  the  car- 
riage had  been  taken  notice  of  by  the  hospital  people,  and 
something  suspicious  must  have  reached  the  ears  of  the 
authorities,  as  on  the  night  before  my  escape  I heard  the 
patrol  officer  ask  the  sentry  who  stood  opposite  my  window, 
“ Where  are  your  ball  cartridges  ? ” The  soldier  began  to 
take  them  in  a clumsy  way  out  of  his  cartridge  pouch,  spend- 
ing a couple  of  minutes  before  he  got  them.  The  patrol 
officer  swore  at  him.  “ Have  you  not  been  told  to-night 
to  keep  four  ball  cartridges  in  the  pocket  of  your  coat  ? ” 
And  he  stood  by  the  sentry  till  the  latter  put  four  cartridges 
into  his  pocket.  “ Look  sharp ! ” he  said  as  he  turned 
away. 

The  new  arrangements  concerning  the  signals  had  to  be 
communicated  to  me  at  once ; and  at  two  on  the  next  day 
a lady  — a dear  relative  of  mine  — came  to  the  prison,  ask- 
ing that  a watch  might  be  transmitted  to  me.  Everything 
had  to  go  through  the  hands  of  the  procureur ; but  as  this 
was  simply  a watch,  without  a box,  it  was  passed  along. 
In  it  was  a tiny  cipher  note  which  contained  the  whole 


A NEW  PLAN  OF  ESCAPE 


371 


plan.  When  I read  it  I was  seized  with  terror,  so  daring 
was  the  feat.  The  lady,  herself  under  pursuit  by  the  police 
for  political  reasons,  would  have  been  arrested  on  the  spot, 
if  any  one  had  chanced  to  open  the  lid  of  the  watch.  But 
I saw  her  calmly  leave  the  prison  and  move  slowly  along  the 
boulevard. 

I came  out  at  four,  as  usual,  and  gave  my  signal.  I 
heard  next  the  rumble  of  the  carriage,  and  a few  minutes 
later  the  tones  of  the  violin  in  the  gray  house  sounded 
through  our  yard.  But  I was  then  at  the  other  end  of  the 
building.  When  I got  back  to  the  end  of  my  path  which 
was  nearest  the  gate,  — about  a hundred  paces  from  it,  — 
the  sentry  was  close  upon  my  heels.  “ One  turn  more,” 
I thought  — but  before  I reached  the  farther  end  of  the 
path  the  violin  suddenly  ceased  playing. 

More  than  a quarter  of  an  hour  passed,  full  of  anxiety, 
before  I understood  the  cause  of  the  interruption.  Then  a 
dozen  heavily  loaded  carts  entered  the  gate  and  moved  to 
the  other  end  of  the  yard. 

Immediately,  the  violinist  — a good  one,  I must  say  — 
began  a wildly  exciting  mazurka  from  Kontsky,  as  if  to 
say,  “ Straight  on  now,  — this  is  your  time  ! ” I moved 
slowly  to  the  nearer  end  of  the  footpath,  trembling  at  the 
thought  that  the  mazurka  might  stop  before  I reached  it. 

When  I was  there  I turned  round.  The  sentry  had 
stopped  five  or  six  paces  behind  me  ; he  was  looking  the 
other  way.  “ Now  or  never  ! ” I remember  that  thought 
flashing  through  my  head.  I flung  off  my  green  flannel 
dressing-gown  and  began  to  run. 

For  many  days  in  succession  I had  practiced  how  to  get 
rid  of  that  immeasurably  long  and  cumbrous  garment.  It 
was  so  long  that  I carried  the  lower  part  on  my  left  arm, 
as  ladies  carry  the  trains  of  their  riding  habits.  Do  what 
I might,  it  would  not  come  off  in  one  movement.  I cut 
the  seams  under  the  armpits,  but  that  did  not  help.  Then 


372 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


I decided  to  learn  to  throw  it  off  in  two  movements : one 
casting  the  end  from  my  arm,  the  other  dropping  the  gown 
on  the  floor.  I practiced  patiently  in  my  room  until  I could 
do  it  as  neatly  as  soldiers  handle  their  rifles.  “ One,  two,” 
and  it  was  on  the  ground. 

I did  not  trust  much  to  my  vigor,  and  began  to  run 
rather  slowly,  to  economize  my  strength.  But  no  sooner 
had  I taken  a few  steps  than  the  peasants  who  were  piling 
the  wood  at  the  other  end  shouted,  “ He  runs  ! Stop  him ! 
Catch  him ! ” and  they  hastened  to  intercept  me  at  the 
gate.  Then  I flew  for  my  life.  I thought  of  nothing  but 
running,  — not  even  of  the  pit  which  the  carts  had  dug 
out  at  the  gate.  Bun  ! run  ! full  speed ! 

The  sentry,  I was  told  later  by  the  friends  who  wit- 
nessed the  scene  from  the  gray  house,  ran  after  me,  followed 
by  three  soldiers  who  had  been  sitting  on  the  doorsteps. 
The  sentry  was  so  near  to  me  that  he  felt  sure  of  catching 
me.  Several  times  he  flung  his  rifle  forward,  trying  to  give 
me  a blow  in  the  back  with  the  bayonet.  One  moment  my 
friends  in  the  window  thought  he  had  me.  He  was  so 
convinced  that  he  could  stop  me  in  this  way  that  he  did 
not  fire.  But  I kept  my  distance,  and  he  had  to  give  up 
at  the  gate. 

Safe  out  of  the  gate,  I perceived,  to  my  terror,  that  the 
carriage  was  occupied  by  a civilian  who  wore  a military  cap. 
He  sat  without  turning  his  head  to  me.  “ Sold ! ” was  my 
first  thought.  The  comrades  had  written  in  their  last  letter, 
“ Once  in  the  street,  don’t  give  yourself  up  : there  will  be 
friends  to  defend  you  in  case  of  need,”  and  I did  not  want 
to  jump  into  the  carriage  if  it  was  occupied  by  an  enemy. 
However,  as  I got  nearer  to  the  carriage  I noticed  that  the 
man  in  it  had  sandy  whiskers  which  seemed  to  be  those  of 
a warm  friend  of  mine.  He  did  not  belong  to  our  circle, 
but  we  were  personal  friends,  and  on  more  than  one  occasion 
I had  learned  to  know  his  admirable,  daring  courage,  and 


A DASH  FOR  FREEDOM 


375 


how  his  strength  suddenly  became  herculean  when  there 
was  danger  at  hand.  “ Why  should  he  be  there  ? Is  it 
possible  ? ” I reflected,  and  was  going  to  shout  out  his 
name,  when  I caught  myself  in  good  time,  and  instead 
clapped  my  hands,  while  still  running,  to  attract  his  atten- 
tion. He  turned  his  face  to  me  — and  I knew  who  it  was. 

‘‘Jump  in,  quick,  quick!”  he  shouted  in  a terrible 
voice,  calling  me  and  the  coachman  all  sorts  of  names,  a 
revolver  in  his  hand  and  ready  to  shoot.  “ Gallop  ! gallop ! 
I will  kill  you  ! ” he  cried  to  the  coachman.  The  horse  — 
a beautiful  racing  trotter,  which  had  been  bought  on  pur- 
pose — started  at  full  gallop.  Scores  of  voices  yelling, 
“ Hold  them  ! Get  them  ! ” resounded  behind  us,  my  friend 
meanwhile  helping  me  to  put  on  an  elegant  overcoat  and  an 
opera  hat.  But  the  real  danger  was  not  so  much  in  the 
pursuers  as  in  a soldier  who  was  posted  at  the  gate  of  the 
hospital,  about  opposite  to  the  spot  where  the  carriage  had 
to  wait.  He  could  have  prevented  my  jumping  into  the 
carriage,  or  could  have  stopped  the  horse,  by  simply  rushing 
a few  steps  forward.  A friend  was  consequently  commis- 
sioned to  divert  this  soldier  by  talking.  He  did  this  most 
successfully.  The  soldier  having  been  employed  at  one 
time  in  the  laboratory  of  the  hospital,  my  friend  gave  a 
scientific  turn  to  their  chat,  speaking  about  the  microscope 
and  the  wonderful  things  one  sees  through  it.  Referring 
to  a certain  parasite  of  the  human  body,  he  asked,  “ Did 
you  ever  see  what  a formidable  tail  it  has  ? ” “ What, 

man,  a tail  ? ” “ Yes,  it  has  ; under  the  microscope  it  is 

as  big  as  that.”  “ Don’t  tell  me  any  of  your  tales ! ” re- 
torted the  soldier.  “I  know  better.  It  was  the  first  thing 
I looked  at  under  the  microscope.”  This  animated  dis- 
cussion took  place  just  as  I ran  past  them  and  sprang  into 
the  carriage.  It  sounds  like  fable,  but  it  is  fact. 

The  carriage  turned  sharply  into  a narrow  lane,  past  the 
same  wall  of  the  yard  where  the  peasants  had  been  piling 


874 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


wood,  and  which  all  of  them  had  now  deserted  in  their  run 
after  me.  The  turn  was  so  sharp  that  the  carriage  was 
nearly  upset,  when  I flung  myself  inward,  dragging  toward 
me  my  friend  ; this  sudden  movement  righted  the  carriage. 

We  trotted  through  the  narrow  lane  and  then  turned  to 
the  left.  Two  gendarmes  were  standing  there  at  the  door 
of  a public  house,  and  gave  to  the  military  cap  of  my  com- 
panion the  military  salute.  “ Hush  ! hush  ! ” I said  to 
him,  for  he  was  still  terribly  excited.  “All  goes  well; 
the  gendarmes  salute  us  ! ” The  coachman  thereupon  turned 
his  face  toward  me,  and  I recognized  in  him  another  friend, 
who  smiled  with  happiness. 

Everywhere  we  saw  friends,  who  winked  to  us  or  gave 
us  a Godspeed  as  we  passed  at  the  full  trot  of  our  beauti- 
ful horse.  Then  we  entered  the  large  Nevsky  Prospekt, 
turned  into  a side  street,  and  alighted  at  a door,  sending 
away  the  coachman.  I ran  up  a staircase,  and  at  its  top 
fell  into  the  arms  of  my  sister-in-law,  who  had  been  wait- 
ing in  painful  anxiety.  She  laughed  and  cried  at  the  same 
time,  bidding  me  hurry  to  put  on  another  dress  and  to  crop 
my  conspicuous  beard.  Ten  minutes  later  my  friend  and  I 
left  the  house  and  took  a cab. 

In  the  meantime,  the  officer  of  the  guard  at  the  prison 
and  the  hospital  soldiers  had  rushed  out  into  the  street, 
doubtful  as  to  what  measures  they  should  take.  There  was 
not  a cab  for  a mile  round,  every  one  having  been  hired  by 
my  friends.  An  old  peasant  woman  from  the  crowd  was 
wiser  than  all  the  lot.  “ Poor  people,”  she  said,  as  if  talk- 
ing to  herself,  “ they  are  sure  to  come  out  on  the  Prospekt, 
and  there  they  will  be  caught  if  somebody  runs  along  that 
lane,  which  leads  straight  to  the  Prospekt.”  She  was  quite 
right,  and  the  officer  ran  to  the  tramway  car  that  stood  close 
by,  and  asked  the  men  to  let  them  have  their  horses  to 
send  somebody  on  horseback  to  intercept  us.  But  the  men 
obstinately  refused  to  give  up  their  horses,  and  the  officer 
did  not  use  force. 


ELUDING  THE  POLICE 


375 


As  to  the  violinist  and  the  lady  -who  had  taken  the  gray 
house,  they  too  rushed  out  and  joined  the  crowd  with  the 
old  woman,  whom  they  heard  giving  advice,  and  when  the 
crowd  dispersed  they  went  away  also. 

It  was  a fine  afternoon.  We  drove  to  the  islands  where 
all  the  St.  Petersburg  aristocracy  goes  on  bright  spring  days 
to  see  the  sunset,  and  called  on  the  way,  in  a remote  street, 
at  a barber’s  shop  to  shave  off  my  beard,  which  operation 
changed  me,  of  course,  but  not  very  much.  We  drove  aim- 
lessly up  and  down  the  islands,  but,  having  been  told  not 
to  reach  our  night  quarters  till  late  in  the  evening,  did 
not  know  where  to  go.  “ What  shall  we  do  in  the  mean- 
time ? ” I asked  my  friend.  He  also  pondered  over  that 
question.  “ To  Donon ! ” he  suddenly  called  out  to  the 
cabman,  naming  one  of  the  best  St.  Petersburg  restaurants. 
“ No  one  will  ever  think  of  looking  for  you  at  Donon,”  he 
calmly  remarked.  “ They  will  hunt  for  you  everywhere 
else,  but  not  there;  and  we  shall  have  a dinner,  and  a 
drink  too,  in  honor  of  the  success  of  your  escape.” 

What  could  I reply  to  so  reasonable  a suggestion  ? So 
we  went  to  Donon,  passed  the  halls  flooded  with  light  and 
crowded  with  visitors  at  the  dinner  hour,  and  took  a sepa- 
rate room,  where  we  spent  the  evening  till  the  time  came 
when  we  were  expected.  The  house  where  we  had  first 
alighted  was  searched  less  than  two  hours  after  we  left,  as 
were  also  the  apartments  of  nearly  all  our  friends.  No- 
body thought  of  making  a search  at  Donon. 

A couple  of  days  later  I was  to  take  possession  of  an 
apartment  which  had  been  engaged  for  me,  and  which  1 
could  occupy  under  a false  passport.  But  the  lady  who  was 
to  accompany  me  there  in  a carriage  took  the  precaution 
of  visiting  the  house  first  by  herself.  It  was  thickly  sur- 
rounded by  spies.  So  many  of  my  friends  had  come  to 
inquire  whether  I was  safe  there  that  the  suspicions  of  the 
police  had  been  aroused.  Moreover,  my  portrait  had  been 


376 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


printed  by  the  Third  Section,  and  hundreds  of  copies  had 
been  distributed  to  policemen  and  watchmen.  All  the 
detectives  who  knew  me  by  sight  were  looking  for  me  in 
the  streets ; while  those  who  did  not  were  accompanied  by 
soldiers  and  warders  who  had  seen  me  during  my  imprison- 
ment. The  Tsar  was  furious  that  such  an  escape  should 
have  taken  place  in  his  capital  in  full  daylight,  and  had 
given  the  order,  “ He  must  be  found.” 

It  was  impossible  to  remain  at  St.  Petersburg,  and  I con- 
cealed myself  in  country  houses  in  its  neighborhood.  In 
company  with  half  a dozen  friends,  I stayed  at  a village 
frequented  at  this  time  of  the  year  by  St.  Petersburg  people 
bent  on  picnicking.  Then  it  was  decided  that  I should 
go  abroad.  But  from  a foreign  paper  we  had  learned  that 
all  the  frontier  stations  and  railway  termini  in  the  Baltic 
provinces  and  Finland  were  closely  watched  by  detectives 
who  knew  me  by  sight.  So  I determined  to  travel  in  a 
direction  where  I should  be  least  expected.  Armed  with 
the  passport  of  a friend,  and  accompanied  by  another  friend, 
I crossed  Finland,  and  went  northward  to  a remote  port  on 
the  Gulf  of  Bothnia,  whence  I crossed  to  Sweden. 

After  I had  gone  on  board  the  steamer,  and  it  was  about 
to  sail,  the  friend  who  was  to  accompany  me  to  the  frontier 
told  me  the  St.  Petersburg  news,  which  he  had  promised 
our  friends  not  to  tell  me  before.  My  sister  Helene  had 
been  arrested,  as  well  as  the  sister  of  my  brother’s  wife,  who 
had  visited  me  in  prison  once  a month  after  my  brother  and 
his  wife  went  to  Siberia. 

My  sister  knew  absolutely  nothing  of  the  preparations  for 
my  escape.  Only  after  I had  escaped  a friend  had  hurried 
to  her,  to  tell  her  the  welcome  news.  She  protested  her 
ignorance  in  vain  : she  was  taken  from  her  children,  and 
was  kept  imprisoned  for  a fortnight.  As  to  the  sister  of 
my  brother’s  wife,  she  had  known  vaguely  that  something 
Was  to  be  attempted,  but  she  had  had  no  part  in  the  prepa- 


ON  AN  ENGLISH  STEAMER 


377 


rations.  Common  sense  ought  to  have  shown  the  authori- 
ties that  a person  who  had  officially  visited  me  in  prison 
would  not  be  involved  in  such  an  affair.  Nevertheless, 
she  was  kept  in  prison  for  over  two  months.  Her  husband, 
a well-known  lawyer,  vainly  endeavored  to  obtain  her  re- 
lease. “ We  are  aware  now,”  he  was  told  by  the  gendarme 
officers,  “ that  she  has  had  nothing  to  do  with  the  escape ; 
but,  you  see,  we  reported  to  the  Emperor,  on  the  day  we 
arrested  her,  that  the  person  who  had  organized  the  escape 
was  discovered  and  arrested.  It  will  now  take  some  time 
to  prepare  the  Emperor  to  accept  the  idea  that  she  is  not 
the  real  culprit.” 

I crossed  Sweden  without  stopping  anywhere,  and  went 
to  Christiania,  where  I waited  a few  days  for  a steamer  to 
sail  for  Hull,  gathering  information  in  the  meantime  about 
the  peasant  party  of  the  Norwegian  Storthing.  As  I went 
to  the  steamer  I asked  myself  with  anxiety,  “ Under  which 
flag  does  she  sail,  — Norwegian,  German,  English  ? ” Then 
I saw  floating  above  the  stern  the  union  jack,  — the  flag 
under  which  so  many  refugees,  Russian,  Italian,  French, 
Hungarian,  and  of  all  nations,  have  found  an  asylum.  1 
greeted  that  flag  from  the  depth  of  my  heart. 


PART  SIXTH 

WESTERN  EUROPE 

I 

A storm  raged  in  the  North  Sea,  as  we  approached  the 
coasts  of  England.  But  I met  the  storm  with  delight.  I 
enjoyed  the  struggle  of  our  steamer  against  the  furiously 
rolling  waves,  and  sat  for  hours  on  the  stem,  the  foam  of 
the  waves  dashing  into  my  face.  After  the  two  years  that 
I had  spent  in  a gloomy  casemate,  every  fibre  of  my  inner 
self  seemed  to  be  throbbing  and  eager  to  enjoy  the  full  in- 
tensity of  life. 

My  intention  was  not  to  stay  abroad  more  than  a few 
weeks  or  months : just  enough  time  to  allow  the  hue  and 
cry  caused  by  my  escape  to  subside,  and  also  to  restore  my 
health  a little.  I landed  under  the  name  of  Levashdff,  the 
name  which  I had  used  in  leaving  Russia ; and  avoiding 
London,  where  the  spies  of  the  Russian  embassy  would  soon 
have  been  at  my  heels,  I went  first  to  Edinburgh. 

It  has  so  happened,  however,  that  I have  never  returned 
to  Russia.  I was  soon  taken  up  by  the  wave  of  the  an- 
archist movement,  which  was  just  then  rising  in  Western 
Europe ; and  I felt  that  I should  be  more  useful  in  helping 
that  movement  to  find  its  proper  expression  than  I could 
possibly  be  in  Russia.  In  my  mother  country  I was  too 
well  known  to  carry  on  an  open  propaganda,  especially 
among  the  workers  and  the  peasants ; and  later  on,  when 
the  Russian  movement  became  a conspiracy  and  an  armed 
struggle  against  the  representative  of  autocracy,  all  thought 


SETTLED  IN  EDINBURGH 


379 


of  a popular  movement  was  necessarily  abandoned ; while 
my  own  inclinations  drew  me  more  and  more  intensely 
toward  casting  in  my  lot  with  the  laboring  and  toiling 
masses.  To  bring  to  them  such  conceptions  as  would  aid 
them  to  direct  their  efforts  to  the  best  advantage  of  all  the 
workers ; to  deepen  and  to  widen  the  ideals  and  principles 
which  will  underlie  the  coming  social  revolution  ; to  de- 
velop these  ideals  and  principles  before  the  workers,  not  as 
an  order  coming  from  their  leaders,  but  as  a result  of  their 
own  reason ; and  so  to  awaken  their  own  initiative,  now 
that  they  were  called  upon  to  appear  in  the  historical  arena 
as  the  builders  of  a new,  equitable  mode  of  organization  of 
society,  — this  seemed  to  me  as  necessary  for  the  develop- 
ment of  mankind  as  anything  I could  accomplish  in  Russia 
at  that  time.  Accordingly,  I joined  the  few  men  who  were 
working  in  that  direction  in  Western  Europe,  relieving 
those  of  them  who  had  been  broken  down  by  years  of  hard 
struggle. 

When  I landed  at  Hull  and  went  to  Edinburgh,  I in- 
formed but  a few  friends  in  Russia  and  in  the  Jura  Fed- 
eration of  my  safe  arrival  in  England.  A socialist  must 
always  rely  upon  his  own  work  for  his  living,  and  conse- 
quently, as  soon  as  I was  settled  in  the  Scotch  capital,  in 
a small  room  in  the  suburbs,  I tried  to  find  some  work. 

Among  the  passengers  on  board  our  steamer  there  was 
a Norwegian  professor,  with  whom  I talked,  trying  to  re- 
member the  little  that  I formerly  had  known  of  the  Swedish 
language.  He  spoke  German.  “ But  as  you  speak  some 
Norwegian,”  he  said  to  me,  “ and  are  trying  to  learn  it,  let 
us  both  speak  it.” 

“ You  mean  Swedish  ? ” I ventured  to  ask.  “ I speak 
Swedish,  don’t  I ? ” 

“ Well,  I should  say  it  is  rather  Norwegian ; surely  not 
Swedish,”  was  his  reply. 


880 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


Thus  happened  to  me  what  happened  to  one  of  Jules 
Verne’s  heroes,  who  had  learned  by  mistake  Portuguese  in- 
stead of  Spanish.  At  any  rate,  I talked  a good  deal  with 
the  professor,  — let  it  be  in  Norwegian,  — and  be  gave 
me  a Christiania  paper,  which  contained  the  reports  of  the 
Norwegian  North  Atlantic  deep-sea  expedition,  just  returned 
home. 

As  soon  as  I was  at  Edinburgh  I wrote  a note  in  English 
about  these  explorations,  and  sent  it  to  “Nature,”  which  my 
brother  and  I used  regularly  to  read  at  St.  Petersburg  from 
its  first  appearance.  The  sub-editor  acknowledged  the  note 
with  thanks,  remarking  with  an  extreme  leniency,  which  I 
have  often  met  with  since  in  England,  that  my  English 
was  “ all  right,”  and  only  required  to  be  made  “ a little 
more  idiomatic.”  I may  say  that  I had  learned  English  in 
Russia,  and,  with  my  brother,  had  translated  Page’s  “ Phi- 
losophy of  Geology  ” and  Herbert  Spencer’s  “ Principles  of 
Biology.”  But  I had  learned  it  from  books,  and  pronounced 
it  very  badly,  so  that  I had  the  greatest  difficulty  in  mak- 
ing myself  understood  by  my  Scotch  landlady ; her  daughter 
and  I used  to  write  on  scraps  of  paper  what  we  had  to  say 
to  each  other  ; and  as  I had  no  idea  of  idiomatic  English, 
I must  have  made  the  most  amusing  mistakes.  I remem- 
ber, at  any  rate,  protesting  once  to  her,  in  writing,  that  it 
was  not  a “ cup  of  tea  ” that  I expected  at  tea  time,  but 
many  cups.  I am  afraid  my  landlady  took  me  for  a glutton, 
but  I must  say,  by  way  of  apology,  that  neither  in  the 
geological  books  I had  read  in  English  nor  in  Spencer’s 
“ Biology  ” was  there  any  allusion  to  such  an  important 
matter  as  tea-drinking. 

I got  from  Russia  the  J ournal  of  the  Russian  Geographi- 
cal Society,  and  soon  began  to  supply  the  “Times”  also  with 
occasional  paragraphs  about  Russian  geographical  explora- 
tions. Prjevdlsky  was  at  that  time  in  Central  Asia,  and 
his  progress  was  followed  in  England  with  interest. 


AT  WORK  IN  LONDON 


381 


However,  the  money  I had  brought  with  me  was  rapidly 
disappearing,  and  all  my  letters  to  Russia  being  intercepted, 
I could  not  succeed  in  making  my  address  known  to  my 
relatives.  So  I moved  in  a few  weeks  to  London,  thinking 
I could  find  more  regular  work  there.  The  old  refugee, 
P.  L.  Lavroff,  continued  to  edit  at  London  his  newspaper 
“ Forward  ; ” but  as  I hoped  soon  to  return  to  Russia,  and 
the  editorial  office  of  the  Russian  paper  must  have  been 
closely  watched  by  spies,  I did  not  go  there. 

I went,  very  naturally,  to  the  office  of  “ Nature,”  where 
I was  most  cordially  received  by  the  sub-editor,  Mr.  J. 
Scott  Keltie.  The  editor  wanted  to  increase  the  column 
of  Notes,  and  found  that  I wrote  them  exactly  as  they  were 
required.  A table  was  consequently  assigned  me  in  the 
office,  and  scientific  reviews  in  all  possible  languages  were 
piled  upon  it.  “ Come  every  Monday,  Mr.  Levashdff,”  I 
was  told,  “look  over  these  reviews,  and  if  there  is  any 
article  that  strikes  you  as  worthy  of  notice,  write  a note,  or 
mark  the  article ; we  will  send  it  to  a specialist.”  Mr. 
Keltie  did  not  know,  of  course,  that  I used  to  rewrite  each 
note  three  or  four  times  before  I dared  to  submit  my 
English  to  him  ; but  taking  the  scientific  reviews  home, 
I soon  managed  very  nicely,  with  my  “ Nature  ” notes  and 
my  “Times”  paragraphs,  to  get  a living.  I found  that  the 
weekly  payment,  on  Thursday,  of  the  paragraph  contribu- 
tors to  the  “Times”  was  an  excellent  institution.  To  be 
sure,  there  were  weeks  when  there  was  no  interesting  news 
from  Prjevdlsky,  and  news  from  other  parts  of  Russia  was 
not  found  interesting ; in  such  cases  my  fare  was  bread  and 
tea  only. 

One  day,  however,  Mr.  Keltie  took  from  the  shelves  several 
Russian  books,  asking  me  to  review  them  for  “ Nature.”  I 
looked  at  the  books,  and,  to  my  embarrassment,  saw  that 
they  were  my  own  works  on  the  “ Glacial  Period  ” and  the 
“ Orography  of  Asia.”  My  brother  had  not  failed  to  send 


S82 


MEMOIRS  OP  A REV OLUTIONIST 


them  to  our  favorite  “ Nature.”  I was  in  great  perplexity, 
and,  putting  the  books  into  my  bag,  took  them  home,  to 
reflect  upon  the  matter.  “ What  shall  I do  with  them  ? ” 
I asked  myself.  “ I cannot  praise  them,  because  they  are 
mine ; and  I cannot  be  too  sharp  on  the  author,  as  I hold 
the  views  expressed  in  them.”  I decided  to  take  them 
back  next  day,  and  explain  to  Mr.  Keltie  that,  although 
I had  introduced  myself  under  the  name  of  Levashoff,  I was 
the  author  of  these  books,  and  could  not  review  them. 

Mr.  Keltie  knew  from  the  papers  about  Kropdtkin’s 
escape,  and  was  very  much  pleased  to  discover  the  refugee 
safe  in  England.  As  to  my  scruples,  he  remarked  wisely 
that  I need  neither  scold  nor  praise  the  author,  but  could 
simply  tell  the  readers  what  the  books  were  about.  From 
that  day  a friendship,  which  still  continues,  grew  up  be- 
tween us. 

In  November  or  December,  1876,  seeing  in  the  letter-box 
of  P.  L.  Lavrdffs  paper  an  invitation  for  “ K.”  to  call  at 
the  editorial  office  to  receive  a letter  from  Russia,  and  think- 
ing that  the  invitation  was  for  me,  I called  at  the  office, 
and  soon  established  friendship  with  the  editor  and  the 
younger  people  who  printed  the  paper. 

When  I called  for  the  first  time  at  the  office  — my  beard 
shaved  and  my  “ top  ” hat  on  — and  asked  the  lady  who 
opened  the  door,  in  my  very  best  English,  “ Is  Mr.  Lavrdff 
in  ? ” I imagined  that  no  one  would  ever  know  who  I was, 
is  I had  not  mentioned  my  name.  It  appeared,  however, 
that  the  lady,  who  did  not  know  me  at  all,  but  well  knew 
my  brother  while  he  stayed  at  Zurich,  at  once  recognized 
me  and  ran  upstairs  to  say  who  the  visitor  was.  “ I knew 
you  immediately,”  she  said  afterwards,  “by  your  eves, 
which  have  much  in  common  with  those  of  your  brother.” 

That  time  I did  not  stay  long  in  England.  I had  been 
in  lively  correspondence  with  my  friend  James  Guillaume, 


REMOVAL  TO  SWITZERLAND 


S83 


of  the  Jura  Federation,  and  as  soon  as  I found  some  per- 
manent geographical  work,  which  I could  do  in  Switzerland 
as  well  as  in  London,  I removed  to  Switzerland.  The  let- 
ters that  I got  at  last  from  home  told  me  that  I might 
as  well  stay  abroad,  as  there  was  nothing  in  particular  to  be 
done  in  Russia.  A wave  of  enthusiasm  was  rolling  over 
the  country,  at  that  time,  in  favor  of  the  Slavonians  who 
had  revolted  against  the  age-long  Turkish  oppression,  and 
my  best  friends,  Serghei  (Stepniak),  Kelnitz,  and  several 
others,  had  gone  to  the  Balkan  peninsula  to  join  the  insur- 
gents. “ We  read,”  my  friends  wrote,  “ the  correspondence 
of  the  ‘ Daily  News’  about  the  horrors  in  Bulgaria ; we  weep 
at  the  reading,  and  go  next  to  enlist  either  as  volunteers 
in  the  Balkan  insurgents’  bands  or  as  nurses.” 

I went  to  Switzerland,  joined  the  Jura  Federation  of  the 
International  Workingmen’s  Association,  and,  following  the 
advice  of  my  Swiss  friends,  settled  in  La  Chaux-de-Fonds. 


H 


The  Jura  Federation  has  played  an  important  part  in 
the  modern  development  of  socialism. 

It  always  happens  that  after  a political  party  has  set  be- 
fore itself  a purpose,  and  has  proclaimed  that  nothing  short 
of  the  complete  attainment  of  that  aim  will  satisfy  it,  it 
divides  into  two  factions.  One  of  them  remains  what  it  was, 
while  the  other,  although  it  professes  not  to  have  changed 
a word  of  its  previous  intentions,  accepts  some  sort  of  com- 
promise, and  gradually,  from  compromise  to  compromise,  is 
driven  farther  from  its  primitive  programme,  and  becomes 
a party  of  modest  makeshift  reform. 

Such  a division  had  occurred  within  the  International 
Workingmen’s  Association.  Nothing  less  than  an  expro- 
priation of  the  present  owners  of  land  and  capital,  and  a 
transmission  of  all  that  is  necessary  for  the  production  of 
wealth  to  the  producers  themselves,  was  the  avowed  aim  of 
the  association  at  the  outset.  The  workers  of  all  nations 
were  called  upon  to  form  their  own  organizations  for  a di- 
rect struggle  against  capitalism  ; to  work  out  the  means  of 
socializing  the  production  of  wealth  and  its  consumption ; 
and,  when  they  should  be  ready  to  do  so,  to  take  possession 
of  the  necessaries  for  production,  and  to  control  production 
with  no  regard  to  the  present  political  organization,  which 
must  undergo  a complete  reconstruction.  The  association 
had  thus  to  be  the  means  for  preparing  an  immense  revolu- 
tion in  men’s  minds,  and  later  on  in  the  very  forms  of  life, 
— a revolution  which  would  open  to  mankind  a new  era  of 
progress  based  upon  the  solidarity  of  all.  That  was  the 
ideal  which  aroused  from  their  slumber  millions  of  Euro 


THE  SOCIAL  DEMOCRACY  385 

pean  workers,  and  attracted  to  the  association  its  best  intel- 
lectual forces. 

However,  two  factions  soon  developed.  When  the  war 
of  1870  had  ended  in  a complete  defeat  of  France,  and  the 
uprising  of  the  Paris  Commune  had  been  crushed,  and  the 
Draconian  laws  which  were  passed  against  the  association 
excluded  the  French  workers  from  participation  in  it ; and 
when,  on  the  other  hand,  parliamentary  rule  had  been! 
introduced  in  “ united  Germany,”  — the  goal  of  the  radi- 
cals since  1848,  — an  effort  was  made  by  the  Germans  to 
modify  the  aims  and  the  methods  of  the  whole  socialist 
movement.  The  “ conquest  of  power  within  the  existing 
states  ” became  the  watchword  of  that  section,  which  took 
the  name  of  “ Social  Democracy.”  The  first  electoral  suc- 
cesses of  this  party  at  the  elections  to  the  German  Reichs- 
tag aroused  great  hopes.  The  number  of  the  social  demo- 
cratic deputies  having  grown  from  two  to  seven,  and  next 
to  nine,  it  was  confidently  calculated  by  otherwise  reason- 
able men  that  before  the  end  of  the  century  the  social  demo- 
crats would  have  a majority  in  the  German  parliament,  and 
would  then  introduce  the  socialist  “ popular  state  ” by 
means  of  suitable  legislation.  The  socialist  ideal  of  this 
party  gradually  lost  the  character  of  something  that  had  to 
be  worked  out  by  the  labor  organizations  themselves,  and 
became  state  management  of  the  industries,  — in  fact,  state 
socialism ; that  is,  state  capitalism.  To-day,  in  Switzer- 
land, the  efforts  of  the  social  democrats  are  directed  in  poli- 
tics toward  centralization  as  against  federalism,  and  in  the 
economic  field  to  promoting  the  state  management  of  rail- 
ways and  the  state  monopoly  of  banking  and  of  the  sale  of 
spirits.  The  state  management  of  the  land  and  of  the  lead- 
ing industries,  and  even  of  the  consumption  of  riches,  would 
be  the  next  step  in  a more  or  less  distant  future. 

Gradually,  the  life  and  activity  of  the  German  social 
democratic  party  was  subordinated  to  electoral  consider- 


386 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


ations.  Trade  unions  were  treated  with  contempt  and 
strikes  were  met  with  disapproval,  because  both  diverted 
the  attention  of  the  workers  from  electoral  struggles.  Every 
popular  outbreak,  every  revolutionary  agitation  in  any 
country  of  Europe,  was  received  in  those  years  by  the  social 
democratic  leaders  with  even  more  animosity  than  by  the 
capitalist  press. 

In  the  Latin  countries,  however,  this  new  departure 
found  but  few  adherents.  The  sections  and  federations  of 
the  International  remained  true  to  the  principles  which  had 
prevailed  at  the  foundation  of  the  association.  Federalist 
by  their  history,  hostile  to  the  idea  of  a centralized  state, 
and  possessed  of  revolutionary  traditions,  the  Latin  work- 
ers could  not  follow  the  evolution  of  the  Germans. 

The  division  between  the  two  branches  of  the  socialist 
movement  became  apparent  immediately  after  the  Franco- 
German  war.  The  association,  as  I have  already  men- 
tioned, had  created  a governing  body  in  the  shape  of  a 
general  council  which  resided  at  London  ; and  the  leading 
spirits  of  that  council  being  two  Germans,  Engels  and  Marx, 
the  council  became  the  stronghold  of  the  new  social  demo- 
cratic direction  ; while  the  inspirers  and  intellectual  leaders 
of  the  Latin  federations  were  Bakunin  and  his  friends. 

The  conflict  between  the  Marxists  and  the  Bakunists  was 
not  a personal  affair.  It  was  the  necessary  conflict  between 
the  principles  of  federalism  and  those  of  centralization,  the 
free  commune  and  the  state’s  paternal  rule,  the  free  action 
of  the  masses  of  the  people  and  the  betterment  of  existing 
capitalist  conditions  through  legislation,  — a conflict  between 
the  Latin  spirit  and  the  German  Geist,  which,  after  the 
defeat  of  France  on  the  battlefield,  claimed  supremacy  in 
science,  politics,  philosophy,  and  in  socialism  too,  represent- 
iug  its  own  conception  of  socialism  as  “ scientific,”  while  all 
other  interpretations  it  described  as  “ utopian.” 

At  the  Hague  Congress  of  the  International  Association, 


CONFLICT  IN  THE  INTERNATIONAL 


387 


which  was  held  in  1872,  the  London  general  council,  by 
means  of  a fictitious  majority,  excluded  Bakunin,  his  friend 
Guillaume,  and  even  the  Jura  Federation  from  the  Inter- 
national. But  as  it  was  certain  that  most  of  what  remained 
then  of  the  International  — that  is,  the  Spanish,  the  Ital- 
ian, and  the  Belgian  federations  — would  side  with  the 
Jurassians,  the  congress  tried  to  dissolve  the  association. 
A new  general  council,  composed  of  a few  social  democrats, 
was  nominated  in  New  York,  where  there  were  no  work- 
men’s organizations  belonging  to  the  association  to  control 
it,  and  where  it  has  never  been  heard  of  since.  In  the 
meantime,  the  Spanish,  the  Italian,  the  Belgian,  and  the 
Jura  federations  of  the  International  continued  to  exist,  and 
to  meet  as  usual,  for  the  next  five  or  six  years,  in  annual 
international  congresses. 

The  Jura  Federation,  at  the  time  when  I came  to  Swit- 
zerland, was  the  centre  and  the  leading  voice  of  the  Inter- 
national federations.  Bakunin  had  just  died  (July  1, 1876), 
but  the  federation  retained  the  position  it  had  taken  under 
his  impulse. 

The  conditions  in  France,  Spain,  and  Italy  were  such 
that  only  the  maintenance  of  the  revolutionary  spirit  that 
had  developed  amongst  the  Internationalist  workers  previous 
to  the  Franco-German  war  prevented  the  governments  from 
taking  decisive  steps  toward  crushing  the  whole  labor  move- 
ment, and  inaugurating  the  reign  of  White  Terror.  It  is 
well  known  that  the  reestablishment  of  a Bourbon  monarchy 
in  France  was  very  near  becoming  an  accomplished  fact. 
Marshal  MacMahon  was  maintained  as  president  of  the 
republic  only  in  order  to  prepare  for  a monarchist  restora- 
tion ; the  very  day  of  the  solemn  entry  of  Henry  Y.  into 
Paris  was  settled,  and  even  the  harnesses  of  the  horses, 
adorned  with  the  pretender’s  crown  and  initials,  were  ready. 
And  it  is  also  known  that  it  was  only  the  fact  that  Gam- 


388 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


betta  and  Clemenceau  — the  opportunist  and  the  radical  — i 
had  covered  wide  portions  of  France  with  committees, 
armed  and  ready  to  rise  as  soon  as  the  coup  d’etat  should 
be  made,  which  prevented  the  proposed  restoration.  But 
the  real  strength  of  those  committees  was  in  the  workers, 
many  of  whom  had  formerly  belonged  to  the  International 
and  had  retained  the  old  spirit.  Speaking  from  personal 
knowledge,  I may  venture  to  say  that  the  radical  middle- 
class  leaders  would  have  hesitated  in  case  of  emergency, 
while  the  workers  would  have  seized  the  first  opportunity 
for  an  uprising  which,  beginning  with  the  defense  of  the 
republic,  might  have  gone  farther  on  in  the  socialist  direc- 
tion. 

The  same  was  true  in  Spain.  As  soon  as  the  clerical  and 
aristocratic  surroundings  of  the  king  drove  him  to  turn  the 
screws  of  reaction,  the  republicans  menaced  him  with  a 
movement  in  which,  they  knew,  the  real  fighting  element 
would  be  the  workers.  In  Catalonia  alone  there  were  over 
one  hundred  thousand  men  in  strongly  organized  trade 
unions,  and  more  than  eighty  thousand  Spaniards  belonged 
to  the  International,  regularly  holding  congresses,  and 
punctually  paying  their  contributions  to  the  association  with 
a truly  Spanish  sense  of  duty.  I can  speak  of  these  organ- 
izations from  personal  knowledge,  gained  on  the  spot,  and  I 
know  that  they  were  ready  to  proclaim  the  United  States 
of  Spain,  abandon  ruling  the  colonies,  and  in  some  of  the 
most  advanced  regions  make  serious  attempts  in  the  direc- 
tion of  collectivism.  It  was  this  permanent  menace  which 
prevented  the  Spanish  monarchy  from  suppressing  all  the 
workers’  and  peasants’  organizations,  and  from  inaugurating 
a frank  clerical  reaction. 

Similar  conditions  prevailed  also  in  Italy.  The  trade 
unions  in  north  Italy  had  not  reached  the  strength  they 
have  now;  but  parts  of  Italy  were  honeycombed  with 
International  sections  and  republican  groups.  The  monarchy 


REVOLUTIONARY  PAPERS 


389 


was  kept  under  continual  menace  of  being  upset,  should  the 
middle-class  republicans  appeal  to  the  revolutionary  elements 
among  the  workers. 

In  short,  looking  back  upon  these  years,  from  which  we 
are  separated  now  by  a quarter  of  a century,  I am  firmly 
persuaded  that  if  Europe  did  not  pass  through  a period  of 
stern  reaction  after  1871,  this  was  mainly  due  to  the  spirit 
which  was  aroused  in  Western  Europe  before  the  Franco- 
German  war,  and  has  been  maintained  since  by  the  anar- 
chist Internationalists,  the  Blanquists,  the  Mazzinians,  and 
the  Spanish  “ cantonalist  ” republicans. 

Of  course,  the  Marxists,  absorbed  by  their  local  electoral 
struggles,  knew  little  of  these  conditions.  Anxious  not  to 
draw  the  thunderbolts  of  Bismarck  upon  their  heads,  and 
fearing  above  all  that  a revolutionary  spirit  might  make  its 
appearance  in  Germany,  and  lead  to  repressions  which  they 
were  not  strong  enough  to  face,  they  not  only  repudiated, 
for  tactical  purposes,  all  sympathy  with  the  western  revolu- 
tionists, but  gradually  became  inspired  with  hatred  toward 
the  revolutionary  spirit,  and  denounced  it  with  virulence 
wheresoever  it  made  its  appearance,  even  when  they  saw  its 
first  signs  in  Bussia. 

No  revolutionary  papers  could  be  printed  in  France  at 
that  time,  under  Marshal  MacMahon.  Even  the  singing 
of  the  “ Marseillaise  ” was  considered  a crime  ; and  I was 
once  very  much  amazed  at  the  terror  which  seized  several  of 
my  co-passengers  in  a train  when  they  heard  a few  recruits 
singing  the  revolutionary  song  (in  May,  1878).  “ Is  it 

permitted  again  to  sing  the  ‘ Marseillaise  ’ ? ” they  asked  one 
another  with  anxiety.  The  French  press  had  consequently 
no  socialist  papers.  The  Spanish  papers  were  very  well 
edited,  and  some  of  the  manifestoes  of  their  congresses  were 
admirable  expositions  of  anarchist  socialism  ; but  who  knows 
anything  of  Spanish  ideas  outside  of  Spain  ? As  to  the 
Italian  papers  they  were  all  short-lived,  appearing,  disap- 


390 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


pearing,  and  reappearing  elsewhere  under  different  names  *, 
and  admirable  as  some  of  them  were,  they  did  not  spread 
beyond  Italy.  Consequently,  the  Jura  Federation,  with  its 
papers  printed  in  French,  became  the  centre  for  the  main- 
tenance and  expression  in  the  Latin  countries  of  the  spirit 
which  — I repeat  it  — saved  Europe  from  a very  dark 
period  of  reaction.  And  it  was  also  the  ground  upon  which 
the  theoretical  conceptions  of  anarchism  were  worked  out 
by  Bakunin  and  his  followers  in  a language  that  was  under- 
stood all  over  continental  Europe. 


m 


Quite  a number  of  remarkable  men,  of  different  nation* 
alifcies,  nearly  all  of  whom  had  been  personal  friends  of 
Bakunin,  belonged  at  that  time  to  the  Jura  Federation. 
The  editor  of  our  chief  paper,  the  Bulletin  of  the  federation, 
was  James  Guillaume,  a teacher  by  profession,  who  belonged 
to  one  of  the  aristocratic  families  of  Neuchatel.  Small,  thin, 
with  the  stiff  appearance  and  resoluteness  of  Robespierre, 
and  with  a truly  golden  heart  which  opened  only  in  the 
intimacy  of  friendship,  he  was  a born  leader  by  his  phe- 
nomenal powers  of  work  and  his  stern  activity.  For  eight 
years  he  fought  against  all  sorts  of  obstacles  to  maintain  the 
paper  in  existence,  taking  the  most  active  part  in  every 
detail  of  the  federation,  till  he  had  to  leave  Switzerland, 
where  he  could  find  no  work  whatever,  and  settled  in 
France,  where  his  name  will  be  quoted  some  day  with  the 
utmost  respect  in  the  history  of  education. 

Adhemar  Schwitzguebel,  also  a Swiss,  was  the  type  of 
the  jovial,  lively,  clear-sighted  French-speaking  watchmakers 
of  the  Bernese  Jura  hills.  A watch  engraver  by  trade,  he 
never  attempted  to  abandon  his  position  of  manual  worker, 
and,  always  merry  and  active,  he  supported  his  large  family 
through  the  severest  periods  of  slack  trade  and  curtailed 
earnings.  His  gift  of  taking  a difficult  economic  or  political 
question,  and,  after  much  thought  about  it,  considering  it 
from  the  workingman’s  point  of  view,  without  divesting  it 
of  its  deepest  meaning,  was  wonderful.  He  was  known  far 
and  wide  in  the  “ mountains,”  and  with  the  workers  of  all 
countries  he  was  a general  favorite. 

His  direct  counterpart  was  another  Swiss,  also  a watch- 


392 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


maker,  Spichiger.  He  was  a philosopher,  slow  in  both 
movement  and  thought,  English  in  his  physical  aspect ; 
always  trying  to  get  at  the  full  meaning  of  every  fact,  and 
impressing  all  of  us  by  the  justness  of  the  conclusions  he 
reached  while  he  was  pondering  over  all  sorts  of  subjects 
during  his  work  of  scooping  out  watch  lids. 

Round  these  three  gathered  a number  of  solid,  stanch, 
middle-aged  or  elderly  workmen,  passionate  lovers  of  liberty, 
happy  to  take  part  in  such  a promising  movement,  and  a 
hundred  or  so  bright  young  men,  also  mostly  watchmakers, 
— all  very  independent  and  affectionate,  very  lively,  and 
ready  to  go  to  any  length  in  self-sacrifice. 

Several  refugees  of  the  Paris  Commune  had  joined  the 
federation.  Elisde  Reclus,  the  great  geographer,  was  of 
their  number,  — a type  of  the  true  Puritan  in  his  manner 
of  life,  and  of  the  French  encyclopaedist  philosopher  of 
the  last  century  in  his  mind ; the  man  who  inspires  others, 
but  never  has  governed  any  one,  and  never  will  do  so ; the 
anarchist  whose  anarchism  is  the  epitome  of  his  broad, 
intimate  knowledge  of  the  forms  of  life  of  mankind  under 
all  climates  and  in  all'  stages  of  civilization ; whose  books 
rank  among  the  very  best  of  the  century ; whose  style,  of 
a striking  beauty,  moves  the  mind  and  the  conscience ; and 
who,  as  he  enters  the  office  of  an  anarchist  paper,  says  to 
the  editor,  — maybe  a boy  in  comparison  to  himself,  — 
“ Tell  me  what  I have  to  do,”  and  will  sit  down,  like  a 
newspaper  subordinate,  to  fill  up  a gap  of  so  many  lines  in 
the  current  number  of  the  paper.  In  the  Paris  Commune 
he  simply  took  a rifle  and  stood  in  the  ranks ; and  if  he 
invites  a contributor  to  work  with  him  upon  a volume  of 
his  world-famed  Geography,  and  the  contributor  timidly 
asks,  “ What  have  I to  do  ? ” he  replies  : “ Here  are  the 
books,  here  is  a table.  Do  as  you  like.” 

By  his  side  was  Lefrancjais,  an  elderly  man,  formerly  a 
teacher,  who  had  been  thrice  in  his  life  an  exile : after 


SOME  MEMBERS  OF  THE  JURA  FEDERATION  393 


June,  1848,  after  Napoleon’s  coup  d'etat,  and  after  1870. 
An  ex-member  of  the  Commune,  and  consequently  one  of 
those  who  were  said  to  have  left  Paris  carrying  away 
millions  in  their  pockets,  he  worked  as  a freight  handler 
at  the  railway  at  Lausanne,  and  was  nearly  killed  in  that 
work,  which  required  younger  shoulders  than  his.  His 
book  on  the  Paris  Commune  is  the  one  in  which  the  real 
historical  meaning  of  that  movement  was  put  in  its  proper 
light.  “ A communalist,  not  an  anarchist,  please,”  he  would 
say.  “ I cannot  work  with  such  fools  as  you  are ; ” and  he 
worked  with  none  but  us,  “ because  you  fools,”  as  he  said, 
“are  still  the  men  whom  I love  best.  With  you  one  can 
work  and  remain  one’s  self.” 

Another  ex-member  of  the  Paris  Commune  who  was 
with  us  was  Pindy,  a carpenter  from  the  north  of  France, 
an  adopted  child  of  Paris.  He  became  widely  known  at 
Paris,  during  a strike  supported  by  the  International,  for 
his  vigor  and  bright  intelligence,  and  was  elected  a member 
of  the  Commune,  which  nominated  him  commander  of  the 
Tuileries  palace.  When  the  Versailles  troops  entered  Paris, 
shooting  their  prisoners  by  the  hundred,  three  men,  at  least, 
were  shot  in  different  parts  of  the  town,  having  been  mis- 
taken  for  Pindy.  After  the  fight,  however,  he  was  concealed 
by  a brave  girl,  a seamstress,  who  saved  him  by  her  calm- 
ness when  the  house  was  searched  by  the  troops,  and  who 
afterward  became  his  wife.  Only  twelve  months  later  they 
succeeded  in  leaving  Paris  unnoticed,  and  came  to  Switzer- 
land. Here  Pindy  learned  assaying,  at  which  he  became 
skillful ; spending  his  days  by  the  side  of  his  red-hot  stove, 
and  at  night  devoting  himself  passionately  to  propaganda 
work,  in  which  he  admirably  combined  the  passion  of  a 
revolutionist  with  the  good  sense  and  organizing  powers 
characteristic  of  the  Parisian  worker. 

Paul  Brousse  was  then  a young  doctor,  full  of  mental 
activity,  uproarious,  sharp,  lively,  ready  to  develop  any  idea 


894 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


with  a geometrical  logic  to  its  utmost  consequences  ; power, 
ful  in  his  criticisms  of  the  state  and  state  organization; 
finding  enough  time  to  edit  two  papers,  in  French  and  in 
German,  to  write  scores  of  voluminous  letters,  to  be  the 
soul  of  a workmen’s  evening  party  ; constantly  active  in 
organizing  men,  with  the  subtle  mind  of  a true  “ southerner.” 

Among  the  Italians  who  collaborated  with  us  in  Switzer- 
land, two  men  whose  names  stood  always  associated,  and 
will  be  remembered  in  Italy  by  more  than  one  generation, 
two  close  personal  friends  of  Bakunin,  were  Cafiero  and 
Malatesta.  Cafiero  was  an  idealist  of  the  highest  and  the 
purest  type,  who  gave  his  considerable  fortune  to  the  cause, 
and  who  never  after  asked  himself  what  he  should  live  upon 
in  the  future ; a thinker  plunged  in  philosophical  specula- 
tion ; a man  who  never  would  harm  any  one,  and  yet  took 
the  rifle  and  marched  in  the  mountains  of  Benevento,  when 
he  and  his  friends  thought  that  an  uprising  of  a socialist 
character  might  be  attempted,  were  it  only  to  show  the 
people  that  their  uprisings  ought  to  have  a deeper  meaning 
than  that  of  a mere  revolt  against  tax  collectors.  Malatesta 
was  a student  of  medicine,  who  had  left  the  medical  profes- 
sion and  also  his  fortune  for  the  sake  of  the  revolution ; 
full  of  fire  and  intelligence,  a pure  idealist,  who  all  his 
life  — and  he  is  now  approaching  the  age  of  fifty  — has 
never  thought  whether  he  would  have  a piece  of  bread  for 
his  supper  and  a bed  for  the  night.  Without  even  so  much 
as  a room  that  he  could  call  his  own,  he  would  sell  sherbet 
in  the  streets  of  London  to  get  his  living,  and  in  the  evening 
write  brilliant  articles  for  the  Italian  papers.  Imprisoned 
in  France,  released,  expelled,  re-condemned  in  Italy,  con- 
fined in  an  island,  escaped,  and  again  in  Italy  in  disguise ; 
always  in  the  hottest  of  the  struggle,  whether  it  be  in  Italy 
or  elsewhere,  — he  has  persevered  in  this  life  for  thirty 
years  in  succession.  And  when  we  meet  him  again,  re- 
leased from  a prison  or  escaped  from  an  island,  we  find  him 


SOME  MEMBERS  OF  THE  JURA  FEDERATION  395 


just  as  we  saw  him  last ; always  renewing  the  struggle, 
with  the  same  love  of  men,  the  same  absence  of  hatred 
toward  his  adversaries  and  jailers,  the  same  hearty  smile 
for  a friend,  the  same  caress  for  a child. 

The  Russians^were  few  among  us,  most  of  them  follow- 
ing the  German  social  democrats.  We  had,  however,  Jou- 
kdvslry,  a friend  of  Herzen,  who  had  left  Russia  in  1863,  — 
a brilliant,  elegant,  highly  intelligent  nobleman,  a favorite 
with  the  workers,  — who  better  than  any  of  the  rest  of  us 
had  what  the  French  call  Voreille  du  peuple  (the  ear  of 
the  workers),  because  he  knew  how  to  fire  them  by  show- 
ing them  the  great  part  they  had  to  play  in  rebuilding 
society,  to  lift  them  by  holding  before  them  high  historical 
views,  to  throw  a flash  of  light  on  the  most  intricate 
economic  problem,  and  to  electrify  them  with  his  earnest- 
ness and  sincerity.  Sokoldff,  formerly  an  officer  of  the 
Russian  general  staff,  an  admirer  of  Paul  Louis  Courier  for 
his  boldness  and  of  Proudhon  for  his  philosophical  ideas, 
who  had  made  many  a socialist  in  Russia  by  his  review 
articles,  was  also  with  us  temporarily. 

I mention  only  those  who  became  widely  known  as 
writers,  or  as  delegates  to  congresses,  or  in  some  other  way. 
And  yet,  I ask  myself  if  I ought  not  rather  to  speak  of 
those  who  never  committed  their  names  to  print,  but  were 
as  important  in  the  life  of  the  federation  as  any  one  of  the 
writers ; who  fought  in  the  ranks,  and  were  always  ready 
to  join  in  any  enterprise,  never  asking  whether  the  work 
would  be  grand  or  small,  distinguished  or  modest,  — 
whether  it  would  have  great  consequences,  or  simply  result 
in  infinite  worry  to  themselves  and  their  families. 

I ought  also  to  mention  the  Germans  Werner  and  Rinke, 
the  Spaniard  Albarracin,  and  many  others ; but  I am  afraid 
that  these  faint  sketches  of  mine  may  not  convey  to  the 
reader  the  same  feelings  of  respect  and  love  with  which 
every  one  of  this  little  family  inspired  those  who  knew  him 
or  her  personally. 


IV 


Of  all  the  towns  of  Switzerland  that  I know,  La  Chaux« 
de-Fonds  is  perhaps  the  least  attractive.  It  lies  on  a high 
plateau  entirely  devoid  of  any  vegetation,  open  to  bitterly 
cold  winds  in  the  winter,  when  the  snow  lies  as  deep  as  at 
Moscow,  and  melts  and  falls  again  as  often  as  at  St.  Peters- 
burg. But  it  was  important  to  spread  our  ideas  in  that 
centre,  and  to  give  more  life  to  the  local  propaganda.  Pindy, 
Spichiger,  Albarracin,  the  Blanquists  Ferre  and  Jallot  were 
there,  and  from  time  to  time  I could  pay  visits  to  Guillaume 
at  Neuchatel,  and  to  Schwitzguebel  in  the  valley  of  St. 
Imier. 

A life  full  of  work  that  I liked  began  now  for  me.  We 
held  many  meetings,  ourselves  distributing  our  announce- 
ments in  the  cafes  and  the  workshops.  Once  a week  we 
held  our  section  meetings,  at  which  the  most  animated  dis- 
cussions took  place,  and  we  went  also  to  preach  anarchism 
at  the  gatherings  convoked  by  the  political  parties.  I trav- 
eled a good  deal,  visiting  other  sections  and  helping  them. 

During  that  winter  we  won  the  sympathy  of  many,  but 
our  regular  work  was  very  much  hampered  by  a crisis  in 
the  watch  trade.  Half  the  workers  were  out  of  work  or 
only  partially  employed,  so  that  the  municipality  had  to  open 
dining-rooms  to  provide  cheap  meals  at  cost  price.  The  co- 
operative workshop  established  by  the  anarchists  at  La  Chaux- 
de-Fonds,  in  which  the  earnings  were  divided  equally  among 
all  the  members,  had  great  difficulty  in  getting  work,  in  spite 
of  its  high  reputation,  and  Spichiger  had  to  resort  several 
times  to  wool-combing  for  an  upholsterer,  in  order  to  get 
his  living. 


CARRYING  THE  RED  FLAG  AT  BERN 


397 


We  all  took  part,  that  year,  in  a manifestation  with  the 
red  flag  at  Bern.  The  wave  of  reaction  spread  to  Switzer- 
land, and  the  carrying  of  the  workers’  banner  was  prohib- 
ited by  the  Bern  police,  in  defiance  of  the  constitution.  It 
was  necessary,  therefore,  to  show  that  at  least  here  and 
there  the  workers  would  not  have  their  rights  trampled 
underfoot,  and  would  offer  resistance.  We  all  went  to 
Bern  on  the  anniversary  of  the  Paris  Commune,  to  carry 
the  red  flag  in  the  streets,  notwithstanding  the  prohibition. 
Of  course  there  was  a collision  with  the  police,  in  which 
two  comrades  received  sword  cuts  and  two  police  officers 
were  rather  seriously  wounded.  But  the  red  flag  was  car- 
ried safe  to  the  hall,  where  a most  animated  meeting  was 
held.  I hardly  need  say  that  the  so-called  leaders  were  in 
the  ranks,  and  fought  like  all  the  rest.  The  trial  involved 
nearly  thirty  Swiss  citizens,  all  themselves  demanding  to 
be  prosecuted,  and  those  who  had  wounded  the  two  police 
officers  coming  forward  spontaneously  to  say  that  they  had 
done  it.  A great  deal  of  sympathy  was  won  to  the  cause 
during  the  trial ; it  was  understood  that  all  liberties  have  to 
be  defended  jealously,  in  order  not  to  be  lost.  The  sen- 
tences were  consequently  very  light,  not  exceeding  three 
months’  imprisonment. 

However,  the  Bern  government  prohibited  the  carrying 
of  the  red  flag  anywhere  in  the  canton ; and  the  Jura  Fed- 
eration thereupon  decided  to  carry  it,  in  defiance  of  the 
prohibition,  in  St.  Imier,  where  we  held  our  congress  that 
year.  This  time  most  of  us  were  armed,  and  ready  to  de- 
fend our  banner  to  the  last  extremity.  A body  of  police 
had  been  placed  in  a square  to  stop  our  column ; a detach- 
ment of  the  militia  wa;  kept  in  readiness  in  an  adjoining 
field,  under  the  pretext  of  target  practice,  — we  distinctly 
heard  their  shots  as  we  marched  through  the  town.  But 
when  our  column  appeared  in  the  square,  and  it  was  judged 
from  its  aspect  that  aggression  would  result  in  serious 


398 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


bloodshed,  the  mayor  let  us  continue  our  march,  undis- 
turbed, to  the  hall  where  the  meeting  was  to  be  held. 
None  of  us  desired  a fight;  but  the  strain  of  that  march,  in 
fighting  order,  to  the  sound  of  a military  band,  was  such 
that  I do  not  know  what  feeling  prevailed  in  most  of  us, 
during  the  first  moments  after  we  reached  the  hall,  — relief 
at  having  been  spared  an  undesired  fight,  or  regret  that  the 
fight  did  not  take  place.  Man  is  a very  complex  being. 

Our  main  activity,  however,  was  in  working  out  the 
practical  and  theoretic  aspects  of  anarchist  socialism,  and  in 
this  direction  the  federation  has  undoubtedly  accomplished 
something  that  will  last. 

We  saw  that  a new  form  of  society  is  germinating  in  the 
civilized  nations,  and  must  take  the  place  of  the  old  one : a 
society  of  equals,  who  will  not  be  compelled  to  sell  their 
hands  and  brains  to  those  who  choose  to  employ  them  in  a 
haphazard  way,  but  who  will  be  able  to  apply  their  know- 
ledge and  capacities  to  production,  in  an  organism  so  con- 
structed as  to  combine  all  the  efforts  for  procuring  the 
greatest  sum  possible  of  well-being  for  all,  while  full,  free 
scope  will  be  left  for  every  individual  initiative.  This  soch 
ety  will  be  composed  of  a multitude  of  associations,  federated 
for  all  the  purposes  which  require  federation : trade  federa- 
tions for  production  of  all  sorts,  — agricultural,  industrial, 
intellectual,  artistic  ; communes  for  consumption,  making 
provision  for  dwellings,  gas  works,  supplies  of  food,  sanitary 
arrangements,  etc.  ; federations  of  communes  among  them- 
selves, and  federations  of  communes  with  trade  organiza- 
tions ; and  finally,  wider  groups  covering  all  the  country, 
or  several  countries,  composed  of  men  who  collaborate  for 
the  satisfaction  of  such  economic,  intellectual,  artistic,  and 
moral  needs  as  are  not  limited  to  a given  territory.  All 
these  will  combine  directly,  by  means  of  free  agreements 
between  them,  just  as  the  railway  companies  or  the  postal 


A NEW  FORM  OF  SOCIETY 


399 


departments  of  different  countries  cooperate  now,  without 
having  a central  railway  or  postal  government,  — even 
though  the  former  are  actuated  by  merely  egotistic  aims, 
and  the  latter  belong  to  different  and  often  hostile  states ; 
or  as  the  meteorologists,  the  Alpine  clubs,  the  lifeboat 
stations  in  Great  Britain,  the  cyclists,  the  teachers,  and 
so  on,  combine  for  all  sorts  of  work  in  common,  for  intel- 
lectual pursuits,  or  simply  for  pleasure.  There  will  be  full 
freedom  for  the  development  of  new  forms  of  production, 
invention,  and  organization  ; individual  initiative  will  be 
encouraged,  and  the  tendency  toward  uniformity  and  cen- 
tralization will  be  discouraged.  Moreover,  this  society  will 
not  be  crystallized  into  certain  unchangeable  forms,  but  will 
continually  modify  its  aspect,  because  it  will  be  a living, 
evolving  organism ; no  need  of  government  will  be  felt, 
because  free  agreement  and  federation  take  its  place  in  all 
those  functions  which  governments  consider  as  theirs  at  the 
present  time,  and  because,  the  causes  of  conflict  being  re- 
duced in  number,  those  conflicts  which  may  still  arise  can 
be  submitted  to  arbitration. 

None  of  us  minimized  the  importance  and  magnitude  of 
the  change  which  we  looked  for.  We  understood  that  the 
current  opinions  upon  the  necessity  of  private  ownership  in 
land,  factories,  mines,  dwelling-houses,  and  so  on,  as  the 
means  of  securing  industrial  progress,  and  of  the  wage-sys- 
tem as  the  means  of  compelling  men  to  work,  would  not 
soon  give  way  to  higher  conceptions  of  socialized  ownership 
and  production.  We  knew  that  a tedious  propaganda  and 
a long  succession  of  struggles,  of  individual  and  collective 
revolts  against  the  now  prevailing  forms  of  property-holding, 
of  individual  self-sacrifice,  of  partial  attempts  at  reconstruc- 
tion and  partial  revolutions,  would  have  to  be  lived  through, 
before  the  current  ideas  upon  private  ownership  would  be 
modified.  And  we  understood  also  that  the  prevalent 
ideas  concerning  the  necessity  of  authority  — in  which  all 


400 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


of  us  have  been  bred  — would  not  and  could  not  be  aban. 
doned  by  civilized  mankind  all  at  once.  Long  years  of 
propaganda  and  a long  succession  of  partial  acts  of  revolt 
against  authority,  as  well  as  a complete  revision  of  the 
teachings  now  derived  from  history,  would  be  required  be- 
fore men  would  perceive  that  they  had  been  mistaken  in 
attributing  to  their  rulers  and  their  laws  what  was  derived 
in  reality  from  their  own  sociable  feelings  and  habits.  We 
knew  all  that.  But  we  also  knew  that  in  preaching  reform 
in  both  these  directions,  we  should  be  working  with  the  tide 
of  human  progress. 

When  I made  a closer  acquaintance  with  the  working 
population  and  their  sympathizers  from  the  better  educated 
classes,  I soon  realized  that  they  valued  their  personal 
freedom  even  more  than  they  valued  their  personal  well- 
being. Fifty  years  ago,  the  workers  were  ready  to  sell 
their  personal  liberty  to  all  sorts  of  rulers,  and  even  to  a 
Caesar,  in  exchange  for  a promise  of  material  well-being ; 
but  now,  this  was  no  longer  the  case.  I saw  that  the  blind 
faith  in  elected  rulers,  even  if  they  were  taken  from  amongst 
the  best  leaders  of  the  labor  movement,  was  dying  away 
amongst  the  Latin  workers.  “ We  must  know  first  what 
we  want,  and  then  we  can  do  it  best  ourselves,”  was  an 
idea  which  I found  widely  spread  among  them,  — far  more 
widely  than  is  generally  believed.  The  sentence  which 
was  put  in  the  statutes  of  the  International  Association, 
“ The  emancipation  of  the  workers  must  be  accomplished 
by  the  workers  themselves,”  had  met  with  general  sympathy, 
and  had  taken  root  in  miuds.  The  sad  experience  of  the 
Paris  Commune  only  confirmed  it. 

When  the  insurrection  broke  out,  a considerable  number 
of  men  belonging  to  the  middle  classes  themselves  were  pre- 
pared to  make,  or  at  least  to  accept,  a new  start  in  the  social 
direction.  “ When  my  brother  and  myself,  coming  from 
our  little  room,  went  out  into  the  streets,”  Elisee  Reclus 


THE  VALUE  OF  PERSONAL  FREEDOM 


401 


Baid  to  me  once,  “ we  were  asked  on  all  sides  by  people 
belonging  to  the  wealthier  classes : 1 Tell  us  what  is  to  be 
done  ? We  are  ready  to  try  a new  start.’  But  we  were  not 
yet  prepared  to  make  the  suggestions.” 

Never  before  had  a government  been  as  fairly  representa- 
tive of  all  the  advanced  parties  as  was  the  Council  of  the 
Commune,  elected  on  the  25th  of  March,  1871.  All  shades 
of  revolutionary  opinion  — Blanquists,  Jacobinists,  Inter- 
nationalists — were  represented  in  it  in  a true  proportion. 
And  yet,  the  workers  themselves  having  no  distinct  ideas 
of  social  reform  to  impress  upon  their  representatives,  the 
Commune  government  did  nothing  in  that  direction.  The 
very  fact  of  having  been  isolated  from  the  masses  and  shut 
up  in  the  Hotel  de  Ville  paralyzed  them.  For  the  success 
of  socialism,  the  ideas  of  no-government,  of  self-reliance,  of 
free  initiative  of  the  individual,  — of  anarchism,  in  a word. 
— had  thus  to  be  preached  side  by  side  with  those  of 
socialized  ownership  and  production. 

We  certainly  foresaw  that  if  full  freedom  were  left  to  the 
individual  for  the  expression  of  his  ideas  and  for  action, 
we  should  have  to  face  a certain  amount  of  extravagant 
exaggeration  of  our  principles.  I had  seen  it  in  the  nihilist 
movement  in  Russia.  But  we  trusted  — and  experience 
has  proved  that  we  were  right — that  social  life  itself,  sup- 
ported by  a frank,  open-minded  criticism  of  opinions  and 
actions,  would  be  the  most  effective  means  for  threshing  out 
opinions  and  for  divesting  them  of  the  unavoidable  exagger- 
ations. We  acted,  in  fact,  in  accordance  with  the  old  say- 
ing that  freedom  remains  still  the  wisest  cure  for  freedom’s 
temporary  inconveniences.  There  is,  in  mankind,  a nucleus 
of  social  habits  — an  inheritance  from  the  past,  not  yet  duly 
appreciated  — which  is  not  maintained  by  coercion  and  is 
superior  to  coercion.  Upon  it  all  the  progress  of  mankind 
is  based,  and  so  long  as  mankind  does  not  begin  to  deterio- 
rate physically  and  mentally,  it  will  not  be  destroyed  by 


402 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


any  amount  of  criticism  or  of  occasional  revolt  against  it. 
These  were  the  opinions  in  which  I grew  confirmed  more 
and  more  in  proportion  as  my  experience  of  men  and  things 
increased. 

We  understood  at  the  same  time  that  such  a change  can- 
not be  produced  by  the  conjectures  of  one  man  of  genius, 
that  it  will  not  be  one  man’s  discovery,  but  that  it  must 
result  from  the  constructive  work  of  the  masses,  just  as  the 
forms  of  judicial  procedure  which  were  elaborated  in  the 
early  mediaeval  period,  the  village  community,  the  guild, 
the  mediaeval  city,  and  the  foundations  of  international  law 
were  worked  out  by  the  people. 

Many  of  our  predecessors  had  undertaken  to  picture  ideal 
commonwealths,  basing  them  sometimes  upon  the  principle 
of  authority,  and,  on  some  rare  occasions,  upon  the  principle 
of  freedom.  Robert  Owen  and  Fourier  had  given  the  world 
their  ideals  of  a free,  organically  developing  society,  in  oppo- 
sition to  the  pyramidal  ideals  which  had  been  copied  from 
the  Roman  Empire  or  from  the  Roman  Church.  Proudhon 
had  continued  their  work,  and  Bakunin,  applying  his  wide 
and  clear  understanding  of  the  philosophy  of  history  to  the 
criticism  of  present  institutions,  “built  up  while  he  was 
demolishing.”  But  all  that  was  preparatory  work  only. 

The  International  Workingmen’s  Association  inaugurated 
a new  method  of  solving  the  problems  of  practical  sociology 
by  appealing  to  the  workers  themselves.  The  educated 
men  who  had  joined  the  association  undertook  only  to  en- 
lighten the  workers  as  to  what  was  going  on  in  different 
countries  of  the  world,  to  analyze  the  obtained  results,  and, 
later  on,  to  aid  them  in  formulating  their  conclusions.  Wo 
did  not  pretend  to  evolve  an  ideal  commonwealth  out  of  our 
theoretical  views  as  to  what  a society  ought  to  be,  hut  we 
invited  the  workers  to  investigate  the  causes  of  the  present 
evils,  and  in  their  discussions  and  congresses  to  consider  the 
practical  aspects  of  a better  social  organization  than  the  one 


STUDYING  SOCIOLOGICAL  PROBLEMS 


403 


wo  live  in.  A question  raised  at  an  international  congress 
was  recommended  as  a subject  of  study  to  all  labor  unions. 
In  the  course  of  the  year  it  was  discussed  all  over  Europe, 
in  the  small  meetings  of  the  sections,  with  a full  knowledge 
of  the  local  needs  of  each  trade  and  each  locality  ; then  the 
work  of  the  sections  was  brought  before  the  next  congress 
of  each  federation,  and  finally  it  was  submitted  in  a more 
elaborate  form  to  the  next  international  congress.  The 
structure  of  the  society  which  we  longed  for  was  thus 
worked  out,  in  theory  and  practice,  from  beneath,  and  the 
Jura  Federation  took  a large  part  in  the  elaboration  of  the 
anarchist  ideal. 

For  myself,  placed  as  I was  in  such  favorable  conditions, 
I gradually  came  to  realize  that  anarchism  represents  more 
than  a mere  mode  of  action  and  a mere  conception  of  a free 
society ; that  it  is  part  of  a philosophy,  natural  and  social, 
which  must  be  developed  in  a quite  different  way  from  the 
metaphysical  or  dialectic  methods -.which  have  been  em- 
ployed  in  sciences  dealing  with  man.  I saw  that  it  must 
be  treated  by  the  same  methods  as  natural  sciences ; not, 
however,  on  the  slippery  ground  of  mere  analogies  such  as 
Herbert  Spencer  accepts,  but  on  the  solid  basis  of  induction 
applied  to  human  institutions.  And  I did  my  best  to 
accomplish  what  I could  in  that  direction. 


V 


Two  congresses  were  held  in  the  autumn  of  1877  in 
Belgium  : one  of  the  International  Workingmen’s  Associa- 
tion at  Verviers,  and  the  other  an  international  socialist 
congress  at  Ghent.  The  latter  was  especially  important,  as 
it  was  known  that  an  attempt  would  he  made  by  the 
German  social  democrats  to  bring  all  the  labor  movement 
of  Europe  under  one  organization,  subject  to  a central  com- 
mittee, which  would  be  the  old  general  council  of  the  Inter- 
national under  a new  name.  It  was  therefore  necessary 
to  preserve  the  autonomy  of  the  labor  organizations  in  the 
Latin  countries,  and  we  did  our  best  to  be  well  represented 
at  this  congress.  I went  under  the  name  of  Levashdff; 
two  Germans,  the  compositor  Werner  and  the  engineer 
Rinke,  walked  nearly  all  the  distance  from  Basel  to  Bel- 
gium ; and  although  we  were  only  nine  anarchists  at  Ghent, 
we  succeeded  in  checking  the  centralization  scheme. 

Twenty-two  years  have  passed  since ; a number  of  inter- 
national socialist  congresses  have  been  held,  and  at  every 
one  of  them  the  same  struggle  has  been  renewed,  — the 
social  democrats  trying  to  enlist  all  the  labor  movement  of 
Europe  under  their  banner  and  to  bring  it  under  their  con- 
trol, and  the  anarchists  opposing  and  preventing  it.  What 
an  amount  of  wasted  force,  of  bitter  words  exchanged  and 
efforts  divided,  simply  because  those  who  have  adopted  the 
formula  of  “ conquest  of  power  within  the  existing  states  ” 
do  not  understand  that  activity  in  this  direction  cannot 
embody  all  the  socialist  movement!  From  the  outset 
socialism  took  three  independent  lines  of  development, 
which  found  their  expression  in  Saint-Simon,  Fourier,  and 


FORCED  TO  GO  TO  ENGLAND  AGAIN 


405 


Robert  Owen.  Saint-Simonism  has  developed  into  social 
democracy,  and  Fourierism  into  anarchism  ; while  Owenism 
is  developing,  in  England  and  America,  into  trade-unionism, 
cooperation,  and  the  so-called  municipal  socialism,  and 
remains  hostile  to  social  democratic  state  socialism,  while  it 
has  many  points  of  contact  with  anarchism.  But  because 
of  failure  to  recognize  that  the  three  move  toward  a com- 
mon goal  in  three  different  ways,  and  that  the  two  latter 
bring  their  own  precious  contribution  to  human  progress,  a 
quarter  of  a century  has  been  given  to  endeavors  to  realize 
the  unrealizable  Utopia  of  a unique  labor  movement  of  the 
social  democratic  pattern. 

The  Ghent  congress  ended  for  me  in  an  unexpected  way. 
Three  or  four  days  after  it  had  begun,  the  Belgian  police 
learned  who  Levashdff  was,  and  received  the  order  to  arrest 
me  for  a breach  of  police  regulations  which  I had  committed 
in  giving  at  the  hotel  an  assumed  name.  My  Belgian  friends 
warned  me.  They  maintained  that  the  clerical  ministry 
which  was  in  power  was  capable  of  giving  me  up  to  Russia, 
and  insisted  upon  my  leaving  the  congress  at  once.  They 
would  not  let  me  return  to  the  hotel.  Guillaume  barred 
the  way,  telling  me  that  I should  have  to  use  force  against 
him  if  I insisted  upon  returning  thither.  I had  to  go  with 
some  Ghent  comrades,  and  as  soon  as  I joined  them,  muf- 
fled calls  and  whistling  came  from  all  corners  of  a dark 
square  over  which  groups  of  workers  were  scattered.  It 
all  looked  very  mysterious.  At  last,  after  much  whispering 
and  subdued  whistling,  a group  of  comrades  took  me  under 
escort  to  a social  democrat  worker,  with  whom  I had  to 
spend  the  night,  and  who  received  me,  anarchist  though  I 
was,  in  the  most  touching  way  as  a brother.  Next  morn- 
ing I left  once  more  for  England,  on  board  a steamer,  pro- 
voking a number  of  good-natured  smiles  from  the  British 
custom-house  officers,  who  wanted  me  to  show  them  my 


406 


MEMOIRS  OP  A REVOLUTIONIST 


luggage,  while  I had  nothing  to  show  but  a small  hand, 
bag. 

I did  not  stay  long  in  London.  In  the  admirable  collec- 
tions of  the  British  Museum  I studied  the  beginnings  of 
the  French  Revolution, — how  revolutions  come  to  break 
out,  — but  I wanted  more  activity,  and  soon  went  to  Paris. 
A revival  of  the  labor  movement  was  beginning  there,  after 
the  rigid  suppression  of  the  Commune.  With  the  Italian 
Costa  and  the  few  anarchist  friends  we  had  among  the  Paris 
workers,  and  with  Jules  Guesde  and  his  colleagues,  who 
were  not  strict  social  democrats  at  that  time,  we  started  the 
first  socialist  groups. 

Our  beginnings  were  ridiculously  small.  Half  a dozen 
of  us  used  to  meet  in  cafes,  and  when  we  had  an  audience 
of  a hundred  persons  at  a meeting  we  felt  happy.  No  one 
would  have  guessed  then  that  two  years  later  the  movement 
would  be  in  full  swing.  But  France  has  its  own  ways  of 
development.  When  a reaction  has  gained  the  upper  hand, 
all  visible  traces  of  a movement  disappear.  Those  who 
fight  against  the  current  are  few.  But  in  some  mysterious 
way,  by  a sort  of  invisible  infiltration  of  ideas,  the  reaction 
is  undermined ; a new  current  sets  in,  and  then  it  appears, 
all  of  a sudden,  that  the  idea  which  was  thought  to  be 
dead  was  there  alive,  spreading  and  growing  all  the  time ; 
and  as  soon  as  public  agitation  becomes  possible,  thousands 
of  adherents,  whose  existence  nobody  suspected,  come  to 
the  front.  “ There  are  at  Paris,”  old  Blanqui  used  to  say, 
11  fifty  thousand  men  who  never  come  to  a meeting  or  to  a 
demonstration ; but  the  moment  they  feel  that  the  people 
can  appear  in  the  streets  to  manifest  their  opinion,  they 
are  there  to  storm  the  position.”  So  it  was  then.  There 
were  not  twenty  of  us  to  carry  on  the  movement,  not  two 
hundred  openly  to  support  it.  At  the  first  commemoration 
of  the  Commune,  in  March,  1878,  we  surely  were  not  two 
hundred.  But  two  years  later  the  amnesty  for  the  Com- 


CALLED  TO  SWITZERLAND 


407 


mune  was  voted,  and  the  working  population  of  Paris  was 
in  the  streets  to  greet  the  returning  Communards ; it  flocked 
by  the  thousand  to  cheer  them  at  the  meetings,  and  the 
socialist  movement  took  a sudden  expansion,  carrying  with 
it  the  radicals. 

The  time  had  not  yet  come  for  that  revival,  however,  and 
one  night  in  April,  1878,  Costa  and  a French  comrade  were 
arrested.  A police  court  condemned  them  to  imprisonment 
for  eighteen  months  as  Internationalists.  I escaped  arrest 
only  by  mistake.  The  police  wanted  LevashdfF,  and  went 
to  arrest  a Russian  student  whose  name  sounded  very  much 
like  that.  I had  given  my  real  name,  and  continued  to 
stay  at  Paris  under  that  name  for  another  month.  Then 
I was  called  to  Switzerland. 


VI 


During  this  stay  at  Paris  I made  my  first  acquaintance 
with  Turgueneff.  He  had  expressed  to  our  common  friend 
P.  L.  Lavrdff  the  desire  to  see  me,  and,  as  a true  Russian, 
to  celebrate  my  escape  by  a small  friendly  dinner.  It  was 
with  a feeling  almost  of  worship  that  I crossed  the  threshold 
of  his  room.  If  by  his  “ Sportsman’s  Notebook  ” he  rendered 
to  Russia  the  immense  service  of  throwing  odium  upon 
serfdom  (I  did  not  know  at  that  time  that  he  took  a lead- 
ing part  in  Herzen’s  powerful  “ Bell  ”),  he  has  rendered  no 
less  service  through  his  later  novels.  He  has  shown  what 
the  Russian  woman  is,  what  treasuries  of  mind  and  heart 
she  possesses,  what  she  may  be  as  an  inspirer  of  men ; and 
he  has  taught  us  hoiv  men  who  have  a real  claim  to  supe- 
riority look  upon  women,  how  they  love.  Upon  me,  and 
upon  thousands  of  my  contemporaries,  this  part  of  his 
teaching  made  an  indelible  impression,  far  more  powerful 
than  the  best  articles  upon  women’s  rights. 

His  appearance  is  well  known.  Tall,  strongly  built,  the 
head  covered  with  soft  and  thick  gray  hair,  he  was  certainly 
beautiful ; his  eyes  gleamed  with  intelligence,  not  devoid 
of  a touch  of  humor,  and  his  whole  manner  testified  to 
that  simplicity  and  absence  of  affectation  which  are  charac- 
teristic of  the  best  Russian  writers.  His  fine  head  revealed 
a vast  development  of  brain  power,  and  when  he  died,  and 
Paul  Bert,  with  Paul  Reclus  (the  surgeon),  weighed  his 
brain,  it  so  much  surpassed  the  heaviest  brain  then  known, 
> — that  of  Cuvier,  — reaching  something  over  two  thousand 
grammes,  that  they  would  not  trust  to  their  scales,  but  got 
new  ones,  to  repeat  the  weighing. 


TURGUENEFF 


409 


His  talk  was  especially  remarkable.  He  spoke,  as  he 
wrote,  in  images.  When  he  wanted  to  develop  an  idea, 
he  did  not  resort  to  arguments,  although  he  was  a master 
in  philosophical  discussions ; he  illustrated  his  idea  by  a 
scene  presented  in  a form  as  beautiful  as  if  it  had  been 
taken  out  of  one  of  his  novels. 

“ You  must  have  had  a great  deal  of  experience  in  your 
life  amongst  Frenchmen,  Germans,  and  other  peoples/’  he 
said  to  me  once.  “ Have  you  not  remarked  that  there  is  a 
deep,  unfathomable  chasm  between  many  of  their  concep- 
tions and  the  views  which  we  Russians  hold  on  the  same 
subjects,  — that  there  are  points  upon  which  we  can  never 
agree  ? ” 

I replied  that  I had  not  noticed  such  points. 

“ Yes,  there  are  some.  Here  is  one  of  them.  One 
night  we  were  at  the  first  representation  of  a new  play. 
I was  in  a box  with  Flaubert,  Daudet,  Zola.  [I  am  not 
quite  sure  whether  he  named  both  Daudet  and  Zola,  but 
he  certainly  named  one  of  the  two.]  All  were  men  of  ad- 
vanced opinions.  The  subject  of  the  play  was  this : A 
woman  had  separated  from  her  husband.  She  had  loved 
again,  and  now  lived  with  another  man.  This  man  was 
represented  in  the  play  as  an  excellent  person.  For  years 
they  had  been  quite  happy.  Her  two  children  — a girl  and 
a boy  — were  babies  at  the  time  of  the  separation  ; now 
they  had  grown,  and  throughout  all  these  years  they  had 
supposed  the  man  to  be  their  real  father.  The  girl  was 
about  eighteen  and  the  boy  about  seventeen.  The  man 
treated  them  quite  as  a father ; they  loved  him,  and  he 
loved  them.  The  scene  represented  the  family  meeting  at 
breakfast.  The  girl  comes  in  and  approaches  her  supposed 
father,  and  he  is  going  to  kiss  her,  when  the  boy,  who  has 
learned  in  some  way  the  true  state  of  affairs,  rushes  forward 
and  shouts,  ‘ Don’t  dare  ! : (N’osez  pas  !) 

“ This  exclamation  brought  down  the  house.  There  was 


410 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


an  outburst  of  frantic  applause.  Flaubert  and  the  others 
joined  in  it.  I was  disgusted. 

“ ‘ Why,’  I said,  ‘ this  family  was  happy  ; the  man  was 
a better  father  to  these  children  than  their  real  father,  . . . 
their  mother  loved  him  and  was  happy  with  him.  . . . This 
mischievous,  perverted  boy  ought  simply  to  be  whipped  for 
what  he  has  said.’  ...  It  was  of  no  use.  I discussed  for 
hours  with  them  afterwards;  none  of  them  could  under- 
stand me ! ” 

I was,  of  course,  fully  in  accordance  with  Turgu4nefFs 
point  of  view.  I remarked,  however,  that  his  acquaint- 
ances were  chiefly  amongst  the  middle  classes.  There,  the 
difference  between  nation  and  nation  is  immense  indeed. 
But  my  acquaintances  were  exclusively  amongst  the  work- 
ers, and  there  is  an  immense  resemblance  between  the 
workers,  and  especially  amongst  the  peasants,  of  all  nations. 

<-  ■>  In  so  saying,  I was  quite  wrong,  however.  After  I had 
had  the  opportunity  of  making  a closer  acquaintance  with 
French  workers,  I often  thought  of  the  truth  of  Turgud- 
neff’s  remark.  There  is  a real  chasm  indeed  between 
Russian  conceptions  of  marriage  relations  and  those  which 
prevail  in  France,  amongst  the  workers  as  well  as  in  the 
middle  classes ; and  in  many  other  things  there  is  a similar 
difference  between  the  Russian  point  of  view  and  that  of 
other  nations. 

It  was  said  somewhere,  after  TurgudnefFs  death,  that  he 
had  intended  to  write  a novel  upon  this  subject.  If  he  had 
begun  it,  the  above-mentioned  scene  must  be  in  his  manu- 
script. What  a pity  that  he  did  not  write  it ! He,  a 
thorough  “ Occidental  ” in  his  ways  of  thinking,  could  have 
said  very  deep  things  upon  a subject  which  must  have  so 
profoundly  affected  him  personally  throughout  his  life. 

Of  all  novel-writers  of  our  century,  Turgueneflf  has  cer- 
tainly attained  the  greatest  perfection  as  an  artist,  and  his 
prose  sounds  to  the  Russian  ear  like  music,  — music  as  deep 


TURGUENEFF 


411 


as  that  of  Beethoven.  His  principal  novels  — the  series  of 
“ Dmitri  B,udin,”  “A  Nobleman’s  Retreat,”  “ On  the  Eve,” 
“ Fathers  and  Sons,”  “ Smoke,”  and  “ Virgin  Soil  ” — re- 
present the  leading  “ history-making  ” types  of  the  edu- 
cated classes  of  Russia,  which  evolved  in  rapid  succession 
after  1848 ; all  sketched  with  a fullness  of  philosophical 
conception  and  humanitarian  understanding  and  an  artistic 
beauty  which  have  no  parallel  in  any  other  literature.  Yet 
“ Fathers  and  Sons  ” — a novel  which  he  rightly  considered 
his  profoundest  work  — was  received  by  the  young  people 
of  Russia  with  a loud  protest.  Our  youth  declared  that 
the  nihilist  Bazaroff  was  by  no  means  a true  representation 
of  his  class ; many  described  him  even  as  a caricature  of 
nihilism.  This  misunderstanding  deeply  affected  Turgue- 
neff,  and,  although  a reconciliation  between  him  and  the 
young  generation  took  place  later  on  at  St.  Petersburg,  after 
he  had  written  “ Virgin  Soil,”  the  wound  inflicted  upon 
him  by  these  attacks  was  never  healed. 

He  knew  from  Lavroff  that  I was  an  enthusiastic  admirer 
of  his  writings  ; and  one  day,  as  we  were  returning  in  a 
carriage  from  a visit  to  Antokolsky’s  studio,  he  asked  me 
what  I thought  of  Bazaroff.  I frankly  replied,  “ Bazaroff 
is  an  admirable  painting  of  the  nihilist,  but  one  feels  that 
jou  did  not  love  him  as  much  as  you  did  your  other 
heroes.” 

“On  the  contrary,  I loved  him,  intensely  loved  him,” 
Turgueneff  replied,  with  an  unexpected  vigor.  “ When  we 
get  home  I will  show  you  my  diary,  in  which  I have  noted 
how  I wept  when  I had  ended  the  novel  with  Bazdroff’s 
death.” 

Turgueneff  certainly  loved  the  intellectual  aspect  of  Ba- 
zdroff.  He  so  identified  himself  with  the  nihilist  philoso- 
phy of  his  hero  that  he  even  kept  a diary  in  his  name, 
appreciating  the  current  events  from  BazarofPs  point  of 
view.  But  I think  that  he  admired  him  more  than  he 


412 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


loved  him.  In  a brilliant  lecture  on  Hamlet  and  Don 
Quixote,  he  divided  the  history  makers  of  mankind  into 
two  classes,  represented  by  one  or  the  other  of  these  char- 
acters. “ Analysis  first  of  all,  and  then  egotism,  and  there, 
fore  no  faith, — an  egotist  cannot  even  believe  in  himself  : ” 
so  he  characterized  Hamlet.  “ Therefore  he  is  a skeptic, 
and  never  will  achieve  anything ; while  Don  Quixote,  who 
fights  against  windmills,  and  takes  a barber’s  plate  for  the 
magic  helmet  of  Mambrino  (who  of  us  has  never  made  the 
same  mistake  ?),  is  a leader  of  the  masses,  because  the  masses 
always  follow  those  who,  taking  no  heed  of  the  sarcasms  of 
the  majority,  or  even  of  persecutions,  march  straight  for- 
ward, keeping  their  eyes  fixed  upon  a goal  which  is  seen, 
perhaps,  by  no  one  but  themselves.  They  search,  they  fall, 
but  they  rise  again,  and  find  it,  — and  by  right,  too.  Yet, 
although  Hamlet  is  a skeptic,  and  disbelieves  in  Good,  he 
does  not  disbelieve  in  Evil.  He  hates  it ; Evil  and  Deceit 
are  his  enemies ; and  his  skepticism  is  not  indifferentism, 
but  only  negation  and  doubt,  which  finally  consume  his 
will.” 

These  thoughts  of  Turgueneff  give,  I think,  the  true  key 
for  understanding  his  relations  to  his  heroes.  He  himself 
and  several  of  his  best  friends  belonged  more  or  less  to  the 
Hamlets.  He  loved  Hamlet,  and  admired  Don  Quixote. 
So  he  admired  also  Bazaroff.  He  represented  his  superi- 
ority admirably  well,  he  understood  the  tragic  character  of 
his  isolated  position,  but  he  could  not  surround  him  with 
that  tender,  poetical  love  which  he  bestowed  as  on  a sick 
friend,  when  his  heroes  approached  the  Hamlet  type.  It 
would  have  been  out  of  place. 

“ Did  you  know  Myshkin  ? ” he  once  asked  me,  in  1878. 
At  the  trial  of  our  circles  Myshkin  revealed  himself  as  the 
most  powerful  personality.  “ I should  like  to  know  all 
about  him,”  he  continued.  “ That  is  a man ; not  the 
slightest  trace  of  Hamletism.”  And  in  so  saying  he  was 


TURGUENEFE 


413 


obviously  meditating  on  this  new  type  in  the  Russian  move- 
ment, which  did  not  exist  in  the  phase  that  Turgudneff 
described  in  “ Virgin  Soil,”  but  was  to  appear  two  years 
later. 

I saw  him  for  the  last  time  in  the  autumn  of  1881.  He 
was  very  ill,  and  worried  by  the  thought  that  it  was  his 
duty  to  write  to  Alexander  III.,  — who  had  just  come  to 
the  throne,  and  hesitated  as  to  the  policy  he  should  follow, 
— asking  him  to  give  Russia  a constitution,  and  proving  to 
him  by  solid  arguments  the  necessity  of  that  step.  With 
evident  grief  he  said  to  me : “I  feel  that  I must  do  it,  but 
I feel  that  I shall  not  be  able  to  do  it.”  In  fact,  he  was 
already  suffering  awful  pains  occasioned  by  a cancer  in  the 
spinal  cord,  and  had  the  greatest  difficulty  even  in  sitting 
up  and  talking  for  a few  moments.  He  did  not  write  then, 
and  a few  weeks  later  it  would  have  been  useless.  Alex- 
ander III.  had  announced  in  a manifesto  his  intention  ta 
remain  the  absolute  ruler  of  Russia. 


vrr 


In  the  meantime  affairs  in  Russia  took  quite  a new  turn. 
The  war  which  Russia  began  against  Turkey  in  1877  had 
ended  in  general  disappointment.  There  was  in  the  coun- 
try, before  the  war  broke  out,  a great  deal  of  enthusiasm 
in  favor  of  the  Slavonians.  Many  believed,  also,  that  a 
war  of  liberation  in  the  Balkans  would  result  in  a move  in 
the  progressive  direction  in  Russia  itself.  But  the  libera- 
tion of  the  Slavonian  populations  was  only  partly  accom- 
plished. The  tremendous  sacrifices  which  had  been  made 
by  the  Russians  were  rendered  ineffectual  by  the  blunders 
of  the  higher  military  authorities.  Hundreds  of  thousands 
of  men  had  been  slaughtered  in  battles  which  were  only 
half  victories,  and  the  concessions  wrested  from  Turkey 
were  brought  to  naught  at  the  Berlin  congress.  It  was  also 
widely  known  that  the  embezzlement  of  state  money  went 
on  during  this  war  on  almost  as  large  a scale  as  during  the 
Crimean  war. 

It  was  amidst  the  general  dissatisfaction  which  prevailed 
in  Russia  at  the  end  of  1877  that  one  hundred  and  ninety- 
three  persons,  arrested  since  1873,  in  connection  with  our 
agitation,  were  brought  before  a high  court.  The  accused, 
supported  by  a number  of  lawyers  of  talent,  won  at  once 
the  sympathies  of  the  great  public.  They  produced  a very 
favorable  impression  upon  St.  Petersburg  society  ; and  when 
it  became  known  that  most  of  them  had  spent  three  or  four 
years  in  prison,  waiting  for  this  trial,  and  that  no  less  than 
twenty-one  of  them  had  either  put  an  end  to  their  lives  by 
suicide  or  become  insane,  the  feeling  grew  still  stronger  in 
their  favor,  even  among  the  judges  themselves.  The  court 


VERA  ZASULICH 


415 


pronounced  very  heavy  sentences  upon  a few,  and  relatively 
lenient  ones  upon  the  remainder,  saying  that  the  prelimi- 
nary detention  had  lasted  so  long,  and  was  so  hard  a 
punishment  in  itself,  that  nothing  could  justly  be  added  to 
it.  It  was  confidently  expected  that  the  Emperor  would 
still  further  mitigate  the  sentences.  It  happened,  however, 
to  the  astonishment  of  all,  that  he  revised  the  sentences 
only  to  increase  them.  Those  whom  the  court  had  acquitted 
were  sent  into  exile  in  remote  parts  of  Russia  and  Siberia, 
and  from  five  to  twelve  years  of  hard  labor  were  inflicted 
upon  those  whom  the  court  had  condemned  to  short  terms 
of  imprisonment.  This  was  the  work  of  the  chief  of  the 
Third  Section,  General  Mezentsoff. 

At  the  same  time,  the  chief  of  the  St.  Petersburg  police, 
General  Trepoff,  noticing,  during  a visit  to  the  house  of 
detention,  that  one  of  the  political  prisoners,  Bogoluboff, 
did  not  take  off  his  hat  to  greet  the  omnipotent  satrap, 
rushed  upon  him,  gave  him  a blow,  and,  when  the  prisoner 
resisted,  ordered  him  to  be  flogged.  The  other  prisoners, 
learning  the  fact  in  their  cells,  loudly  expressed  their  in- 
dignation, and  were  in  consequence  fearfully  beaten  by  the 
warders  and  the  police.  The  Russian  political  prisoners 
bore  without  murmuring  all  hardships  inflicted  upon  them 
in  Siberia  or  through  hard  labor,  but  they  were  firmly  de- 
cided not  to  tolerate  corporal  punishment.  A young  girl, 
Vdra  Zasulich,  who  did  not  even  personally  know  Bogolu- 
boff, took  a revolver,  went  to  the  chief  of  police,  and  shot 
at  him.  Trdpoff  was  only  wounded.  Alexander  II.  came 
to  look  at  the  heroic  girl,  who  must  have  impressed  him 
by  her  extremely  sweet  face  and  her  modesty.  Trepoff 
had  so  many  enemies  at  St.  Petersburg  that  they  managed 
to  bring  the  affair  before  a common-law  jury,  and  Ydra 
Zasulich  declared  in  court  that  she  had  resorted  to  arms 
only  when  all  means  for  bringing  the  affair  to  public  know- 
ledge and  obtaining  some  sort  of  redress  had  been  ex* 


416 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


hausted.  Even  the  St.  Petersburg  correspondent  of  the 
London  “ Times  ” had  been  asked  to  mention  the  affair  in  his 
paper,  but  had  not  done  so,  perhaps  thinking  it  improbable. 
Then,  without  telling  any  one  her  intentions,  she  went  to 
shoot  Trepoff.  Now  that  the  affair  had  become  public,  she 
was  quite  happy  to  know  that  he  was  hut  slightly  wounded. 
The  jury  acquitted  her  unanimously  ; and  when  the  police 
tried  to  rearrest  her,  as  she  was  leaving  the  court  house, 
the  young  men  of  St.  Petersburg,  who  stood  in  crowds  at 
the  gates,  saved  her  from  their  clutches.  She  went  abroad, 
and  soon  was  among  us  in  Switzerland. 

This  affair  produced  quite  a sensation  throughout  Europe. 
I was  at  Paris  when  the  news  of  the  acquittal  came,  and 
had  to  call  that  day  on  business  at  the  offices  of  several 
newspapers.  I found  the  editors  fired  with  enthusiasm, 
and  writing  powerful  articles  to  glorify  the  girl.  Even 
the  serious  “ Revue  des  Deux  Mondes  ” wrote,  in  its  review 
of  the  year,  that  the  two  persons  who  had  most  impressed 
public  opinion  in  Europe  during  1878  were  Prince  Gortcha- 
kdff  at  the  Berlin  congress  and  Vera  Zasulich.  Their 
portraits  were  given  side  by  side  in  several  almanacs.  Upon 
the  workers  in  Europe  the  devotion  of  Vera  Zasulich  pro- 
duced a tremendous  impression. 

A few  months  after  that,  without  any  plot  having  been 
formed,  four  attempts  were  made  against  crowned  heads 
in  close  succession.  The  worker  Hoedel  and  Dr.  Nobiling 
shot  at  the  German  Emperor ; a few  weeks  later,  a Spanish 
worker,  Oliva  Moncasi,  followed  with  an  attempt  to  shoot 
the  King  of  Spain,  and  the  cook  Passanante  rushed  with  his 
knife  upon  the  King  of  Italy.  The  governments  of  Europe 
could  not  believe  that  such  attempts  upon  the  lives  of  three 
kings  should  have  occurred  without  there  being  at  the  bot- 
tom some  international  conspiracy,  and  they  jumped  to  the 
conclusion  that  the  Jura  Federation  and  the  International 
Workingmen’s  Association  were  responsible. 


PUBLICATION  OF  LE  REYOLTE 


417 


More  than  twenty  years  have  passed  since  then,  and  I 
may  say  most  positively  that  there  was  absolutely  no  ground 
whatever  for  that  supposition.  However,  (alljthe  European 
governments  fell  upon  Switzerland,  reproaching  her  with 
harboring  revolutionists,  who  organized  such  plots.  Paul 
Brousse,  the  editor  of  our  Jura  newspaper,  the  “Avant- 
Garde,”  was  arrested  and  prosecuted.  The  Swiss  judges, 
seeing  there  was  not  the  slightest  foundation  for  connect- 
ing Brousse  or  the  Jura  Federation  with  the  recent  attacks, 
condemned  Brousse  to  only  a couple  of  months’  imprison- 
ment, for  his  articles  ; but  the  paper  was  suppressed,  and 
all  the  printing-offices  of  Switzerland  were  asked  by  the 
federal  government  not  to  publish  this  or  any  similar  paper. 
The  Jura  Federation  thus  remained  without  an  organ. 

Besides,  the  politicians  of  Switzerland,  who  looked  with 
an  unfavorable  eye  on  the  anarchist  agitation  in  their  coun- 
try, acted  privately  in  such  a way  as  to  compel  the  leading 
Swiss  members  of  the  Jura  Federation  either  to  retire  from 
public  life  or  to  starve.  Brousse  was  expelled  from  Switzer- 
land. James  Guillaume,  who  for  eight  years  had  main- 
tained against  all  obstacles  the  official  organ  of  the  federation, 
and  made  his  living  chiefly  hy  teaching,  could  obtain  no 
employment,  and  was  compelled  to  leave  Switzerland  and 
remove  to  France.  Adhemar  Schwitzguebel  found  no  work 
in  the  watch  trade,  and,  burdened  as  he  was  by  a large 
family,  had  to  retire  from  the  movement.  Spichiger  was 
in  the  same  condition,  and  emigrated.  It  thus  happened 
that  I,  a foreigner,  had  to  undertake  the  editing  of  the 
organ  of  the  federation.  I hesitated,  of  course,  but  there 
was  nothing  else  to  be  done,  and  with  two  friends,  Dumar- 
theray  and  Herzig,  I started  a new  fortnightly  paper  at 
Geneva,  in  February,  1879,  under  the  title  of  “ Le  Kevolte.” 
I had  to  write  most  of  it  myself.  "We  had  only  twenty- 
three  francs  (about  four  dollars)  to  start  the  paper,  but  we 
all  set  to  work  to  get  subscriptions,  and  succeeded  in  issuing 


418 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


our  first  number.  It  was  moderate  in  tone,  but  revolution- 
ary in  substance,  and  I did  my  best  to  write  it  in  such  a 
style  that  complex  historical  and  economical  questions  should 
be  comprehensible  to  every  intelligent  worker.  Six  hun- 
dred was  the  utmost  limit  which  the  edition  of  our  previous 
papers  had  ever  attained.  We  printed  two  thousand  copies 
of  “ Le  Itdvolte,”  and  in  a few  days  not  one  was  left.  The 
paper  was  a success,  and  still  continues,  at  Paris,  under  the 
name  of  “ Temps  Nouveaux.” 

Socialist  papers  have  often  a tendency  to  become  mere 
annals  of  complaints  about  existing  conditions.  The  op- 
pression of  the  laborers  in  the  mine,  the  factory,  and  the 
field  is  related  ; the  misery  and  sufferings  of  the  workers 
during  strikes  are  told  in  vivid  pictures ; their  helplessness 
in  the  struggle  against  employers  is  insisted  upon : and  this 
succession  of  hopeless  efforts,  related  in  the  paper,  exercises 
a most  depressing  influence  upon  the  reader.  To  counter- 
balance that  effect,  the  editor  has  to  rely  chiefly  upon  burn- 
ing words  by  means  of  which  he  tries  to  inspire  his  read- 
ers with  energy  and  faith.  I thought,  on  the  contrary, 
that  a revolutionary  paper  must  be,  above  all,  a record  of 
those  symptoms  which  everywhere  announce  the  coming  of 
a new  era,  the  germination  of  new  forms  of  social  life,  the 
growing  revolt  against  antiquated  institutions.  These  symp- 
toms should  be  watched,  brought  together  in  their  intimate 
connection,  and  so  grouped  as  to  show  to  the  hesitating 
minds  of  the  greater  number  the  invisible  and  often  uncon- 
scious support  which  advanced  ideas  find  everywhere,  when 
a revival  of  thought  takes  place  in  society.  To  make  one 
feel  sympathy  with  the  throbbing  of  the  human  heart  all 
over  the  world,  with  its  revolt  against  age-long  injustice, 
with  its  attempts  at  working  out  new  forms  of  life,  — this 
should  be  the  chief  duty  of  a revolutionary  paper.  It  is 
hope,  not  despair,  which  makes  successful  revolutions. 

Historians  often  tell  us  how  this  or  that  system  of  philo« 


THE  DUTY  OF  A REVOLUTIONARY  PAPER  419 


sopliy  has  accomplished  a certain  change  in  human  thought, 
and  subsequently  in  institutions.  But  this  is  not  history. 
The  greatest  social  philosophers  have  only  caught  the  indi- 
cations of  coming  changes,  have  understood  their  inner 
relations,  and,  aided  by  induction  and  intuition,  have  fore- 
told what  was  to  occur.  It  may  also  be  easy  to  draw  a 
plan  of  social  organization,  by  starting  from  a few  prin- 
ciples and  developing  them  to  their  necessary  consequences, 
like  a geometrical  conclusion  from  a few  axioms  ; but  this 
is  not  sociology.  A correct  social  forecast  cannot  be  made 
unless  one  keeps  an  eye  on  the  thousands  of  signs  of  the 
new  life,  separating  the  occasional  facts  from  those  which 
are  organically  essential,  and  building  the  generalization 
upon  that  basis. 

This  was  the  method  of  thought  with  which  I endeav- 
ored to  familiarize  my  readers,  using  plain  comprehensible 
words,  so  as  to  accustom  the  most  modest  of  them  to  judge 
for  himself  whereunto  society  is  moving,  and  himself  to 
correct  the  thinker  if  the  latter  comes  to  wrong  conclusions. 
As  to  the  criticism  of  what  exists,  I went  into  it  only  to 
disentangle  the  roots  of  the  evils,  and  to  show  that  a deep- 
seated  and  carefully-nurtured  fetichism  with  regard  to  the 
antiquated  survivals  of  past  phases  of  human  development, 
and  a widespread  cowardice  of  mind  and  will,  are  the  main 
sources  of  all  evils. 

Dumartheray  and  Herzig  gave  me  full  support  in  that 
direction.  Dumartheray  was  born  in  one  of  the  poorest 
peasant  families  in  Savoy.  His  schooling  had  not  gone 
beyond  the  first  rudiments  of  a primary  school.  Yet  he 
was  one  of  the  most  intelligent  men  I ever  met.  His  ap- 
preciations of  current  events  and  men  were  so  remarkable 
for  their  uncommon  good  sense  that  they  were  often  pro- 
phetic. He  was  also  one  of  the  finest  critics  of  the  current 
socialist  literature,  and  was  never  taken  in  by  the  mere  dis- 
play of  fine  words  or  would-be  science.  Herzig  was  a young 


420 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


clerk,  born  at  Geneva ; a man  of  suppressed  emotions,  shy, 
who  would  blush  like  a girl  when  he  expressed  an  original 
thought,  and  who,  after  I was  arrested,  when  he  became 
responsible  for  the  continuance  of  the  journal,  by  sheer 
force  of  will  learned  to  write  very  well.  Boycotted  by  all 
Geneva  employers,  and  fallen  with  his  family  into  sheer 
misery,  he  nevertheless  supported  the  paper  till  it  became 
possible  to  transfer  it  to  Paris. 

To  the  judgment  of  these  two  friends  I could  trust  im- 
plicitly. If  Herzig  frowned,  muttering,  “Yes — well  — it 
may  go,”  I knew  that  it  would  not  do.  And  when  Du- 
martherary,  who  always  complained  of  the  bad  state  of  his 
spectacles  when  he  had  to  read  a not  quite  legibly  written 
manuscript,  and  therefore  generally  read  proofs  only,  inter- 
rupted his  reading  by  exclaiming,  “Non,  5a  ne  va  pas ! ” I 
felt  at  once  that  it  was  not  the  proper  thing,  and  tried  to 
guess  what  thought  or  expression  provoked  his  disapproval. 
I knew  there  was  no  use  asking  him,  “ Why  will  it  not 
do  ? ” He  would  have  answered : “ Ah,  that  is  not  my 
affair ; that ’s  yours.  It  won’t  do ; that  is  all  I can  say.” 
But  I felt  he  was  right,  and  I simply  sat  down  to  rewrite 
the  passage,  or,  taking  the  composing-stick,  set  up  in  type 
a new  passage  instead. 

I must  own  also  that  we  had  hard  times  with  it.  No 
sooner  had  we  issued  four  or  five  numbers  than  the  printer 
asked  us  to  find  another  printing-office.  For  the  workers 
and  their  publications  the  liberty  of  the  press  inscribed  in 
the  constitution  has  many  limitations  beside  the  paragraphs 
of  the  law.  The  printer  had  no  objection  to  our  paper  : 
he  liked  it ; but  in  Switzerland  all  printing-offices  depend 
upon  the  government,  which  employs  them  more  or  less 
upon  statistical  reports  and  the  like ; and  our  printer  was 
plainly  told  that  if  he  continued  to  print  the  paper  he  need 
not  expect  to  have  any  more  orders  from  the  Geneva  gov 


MEN  OF  GREATER  VALUE  THAN  MONEY 


421 


eminent.  I made  the  tour  of  all  the  French-speaking  part 
of  Switzerland,  and  saw  the  heads  of  all  the  printing-offices, 
but  everywhere,  even  from  those  who  did  not  dislike  the 
tendency  of  our  paper,  I received  the  same  reply  : “ We 
could  not  live  without  work  from  the  government,  and  we 
should  have  none  if  we  undertook  to  print  * Le  Revolted  ” 
I returned  to  Geneva  in  very  low  spirits ; hut  Dumarthe- 
ray  was  only  the  more  ardent  and  hopeful.  “ It ’s  all  very 
simple,”  he  said.  “ We  buy  our  own  printing-plant  on  a 
three  months’  credit,  and  in  three  months  we  shall  have 
paid  for  it.”  “ But  we  have  no  money,  only  a few  huR 
dred  francs,”  I objected.  “ Money,  nonsense  ! We  shall 
have  it ! Let  us  only  order  the  type  at  once  and  immedi- 
ately issue  our  next  number  — and  money  will  come  ! ” 
Once  more  his  judgment  was  quite  right.  When  our  next 
number  came  out  from  our  own  “Imprimerie  Jurassienne,” 
and  we  had  told  our  difficulties  and  printed  a couple  of 
small  pamphlets  besides,  — all  of  us  helping  in  the  print- 
ing, — the  money  came  in  ; mostly  in  coppers  and  small 
silver  coins,  but  it  came.  Over  and  over  again  in  my  life 
I have  heard  complaints  among  the  advanced  parties  about 
the  want  of  money ; but  the  longer  I live,  the  more  I am 
persuaded  that  our  chief  difficulty  is  not  so  much  a lack  of 
money  as  of  men  who  will  march  firmly  and  steadily  to- 
wards a given  aim  in  the  right  direction,  and  inspire  others. 
For  twenty-one  years  our  paper  has  now  continued  to  live 
from  hand  to  mouth,  — appeals  for  funds  appearing  on  the 
front  page  in  almost  every  number  ; but  as  long  as  there  is 
a man  who  sticks  to  it  and  puts  all  his  energy  into  it,  as 
Herzig  and  Dumartheray  did  at  Geneva,  and  as  Grave  has 
done  for  the  last  sixteen  years  at  Paris,  the  money  comes 
in,  and  a yearly  debit  of  about  eight  hundred  pounds  is 
made  up,  — mainly  out  of  the  pennies  and  small  silver 
coins  of  the  workers,  — to  cover  the  yearly  expenditure  for 
printing  the  paper  and  the  pamphlets.  For  a paper,  as  for 


422 


MEMOIBS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


everything  else,  men  are  of  an  infinitely  greater  value  than 
money. 

We  started  our  printing-office  in  a tiny  room,  and  our 
compositor  was  a man  from  Little  Russia,  who  undertook 
to  put  our  paper  in  type  for  the  very  modest  sum  of  sixty 
francs  a month.  If  he  could  only  have  his  modest  dinner 
every  day,  and  the  possibility  of  going  occasionally  to  the 
opera,  he  cared  for  nothing  more.  “ Going  to  the  Turkish 
bath,  John?”  I asked  him  once  as  I met  him  at  Geneva 
in  the  street,  with  a brown-paper  parcel  under  his  arm. 
“ No,  removing  to  a new  lodging,”  he  replied,  in  his  usual 
melodious  voice,  and  with  his  customary  smile. 

Unfortunately,  he  knew  no  French.  I used  to  write  my 
manuscript  in  the  best  of  my  handwriting,  — often  think- 
ing with  regret  of  the  time  I had  wasted  in  the  classes  of 
our  good  Ebert  at  school,  — but  John  could  read  French 
only  indifferently  well,  and  instead  of  “ immediatement  ” 
he  would  read  “ immidiotermut  ” or  “ inmuidiatmunt,”  and 
set  up  in  type  such  wonderful  words  as  these  ; but  as 
he  “ kept  the  space,”  and  the  length  of  the  line  did  not 
have  to  be  altered  in  making  the  corrections,  there  were 
only  four  or  five  letters  to  be  corrected  in  such  uncouth 
words  as  the  above,  and  but  one  or  two  in  each  of  the  shorter 
ones ; thus  we  managed  pretty  well.  We  were  on  the  best 
possible  terms  with  him,  and  I soon  learned  a little  type- 
setting under  his  direction.  The  composition  was  always 
finished  in  time  to  take  the  proofs  to  a Swiss  comrade  who 
was  the  responsible  editor,  and  to  whom  we  submitted  them 
before  going  to  press,  and  then  one  of  us  carted  all  the  forms 
to  a printing-office.  Our  “ Imprimerie  Jurassienne”  soon 
became  widely  known  for  its  publications,  especially  for  its 
pamphlets,  which  Dumartheray  would  never  allow  to  be 
sold  at  more  than  one  penny.  Quite  a new  style  had  to  be 
worked  out  for  such  pamphlets.  I must  say  that  I was 
often  wicked  enough  to  envy  those  writers  who  could  use 


THE  IMPRIMERIE  JURASSIENNE 


423 


any  number  of  pages  for  developing  their  ideas,  and  were 
allowed  to  make  the  well-known  excuse  of  Talleyrand : “ I 
have  not  had  the  time  to  be  brief.”  When  I had  to  con- 
dense the  results  of  several  months’  work  — upon,  let  me 
say,  the  origins  of  law  — into  a penny  pamphlet,  I had  to 
take  the  time  to  be  brief.  But  we  wrote  for  the  workers, 
and  twenty  centimes  for  a pamphlet  is  often  too  much  for 
the  average  worker.  The  result  was  that  our  penny  and 
half-penny  pamphlets  sold  by  the  scores  of  thousands,  and 
were  reproduced  in  many  other  countries  in  translations. 
My  leaders  of  that  period  were  published  later  on,  while  I 
was  in  prison,  by  Elisee  Reclus,  under  the  title  of  “The 
Words  of  a Rebel,”  — Paroles  d’un  Revolte. 

France  was  always  the  chief  object  of  our  aims  ; but  “ Le 
Revolte  ” was  severely  prohibited  in  France,  and  the  smug- 
glers had  so  many  good  things  to  import  into  France  from 
Switzerland  that  they  did  not  care  to  meddle  with  our 
paper.  I went  once  with  them,  crossing  in  their  company 
the  French  frontier,  and  found  that  they  were  very  brave 
and  reliable  men,  but  I could  not  induce  them  to  undertake 
the  smuggling  of  our  paper.  All  we  could  do,  therefore,  was 
to  send  it  in  sealed  envelopes  to  about  a hundred  persons  in 
France.  We  charged  nothing  for  postage,  counting  upon 
voluntary  contributions  from  our  subscribers  to  cover  our 
extra  expenses,  — which  they  always  did,  — but  we  often 
thought  that  the  French  police  were  missing  a splendid 
opportunity  for  ruining  our  paper  by  subscribing  to  a 
hundred  copies  and  sending  no  voluntary  contributions. 

For  the  first  year  we  had  to  rely  entirely  upon  ourselves  ; 
but  gradually  Elisee  Reclus  took  a greater  interest  in  the 
work,  and  finally  gave  more  life  than  ever  to  the  paper 
after  my  arrest.  Reclus  had  invited  me  to  aid  him  in  the 
preparation  of  the  volume  of  his  monumental  Geography 
which  dealt  with  the  Russian  dominions  in  Asia.  He  had 


424 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


learned  Kussian,  but  thought  that,  as  I was  well  acquainted 
with  Siberia,  I might  be  helpful ; and  as  the  health  of  my 
wife  was  poor,  and  the  doctor  had  ordered  her  to  leave 
Geneva  with  its  cold  winds  at  once,  we  removed  early  in 
the  spring  of  1880  to  Clarens,  where  Elisee  Reclus  lived 
at  that  time.  We  settled  above  Clarens,  in  a small  cottage 
overlooking  the  blue  waters  of  Lake  Geneva,  with  the  pure 
snow  of  the  Dent  du  Midi  in  the  background.  A streamlet 
that  thundered  like  a mighty  torrent  after  rains,  carrying 
away  immense  rocks  and  digging  for  itself  a new  hed,  ran 
Tinder  our  windows,  and  on  the  slope  of  the  hill  opposite 
rose  the  old  castle  of  Ch&telard,  of  which  the  owners,  up 
to  the  revolution  of  the  burla  papei  (the  burners  of  the 
papers)  in  1799,  levied  upon  the  neighboring  peasants  ser- 
vile taxes  on  the  occasion  of  births,  marriages,  and  deaths. 
Here,  aided  by  my  wife,  with  whom  I used  to  discuss  every 
event  and  every  proposed  paper,  and  who  was  a severe  lit- 
erary critic  of  my  writings,  I produced  the  best  things  that  I 
wrote  for  “ Le  Rdvolte,”  among  them  the  address  “ To  the 
Young,”  which  was  spread  in  hundreds  of  thousands  of  cop- 
ies in  all  languages.  In  fact,  I worked  out  here  the  foun- 
dation of  nearly  all  that  I wrote  later  on.  Contact  with 
educated  men  of  similar  ways  of  thinking  is  what  we  an- 
archist writers,  scattered  by  proscription  all  over  the  world, 
miss,  perhaps,  more  than  anything  else.  At  Clarens  I had 
that  contact  with  Elisee  Reclus  and  Leframjais,  in  addition 
to  permanent  contact  with  the  workers,  which  I continued 
to  maintain ; and  although  I worked  much  for  the  Geogra- 
phy, I could  produce  even  more  than  usual  for  the  anar 
chist  propaganda. 


vm 


In  Eussia  the  struggle  for  freedom  was  taking  on  a 
more  and  more  acute  character.  Several  political  trials  had 
been  brought  before  high  courts,  — the  trial  of  “ the  hun- 
dred and  ninety-three,”  of  “ the  fifty,”  of  “ the  Dolgushin 
circle,”  and  so  on,  — and  in  all  of  them  the  same  thing 
was  apparent.  The  youth  had  gone  to  the  peasants  and  the 
factory  workers,  preaching  socialism  to  them ; socialist  pam- 
phlets, printed  abroad,  had  been  distributed;  appeals  had 
been  made  to  revolt  — in  some  vague,  indeterminate  way 
— against  the  oppressive  economical  conditions.  In  short, 
nothing  was  done  that  does  not  occur  in  socialist  agitations 
in  every  other  country  of  the  world.  No  traces  of  con- 
spiracy against  the  Tsar,  or  even  of  preparations  for  revo- 
lutionary action,  were  found ; in  fact,  there  were  none. 
The  great  majority  of  our  youth  were]  at  that  time  fioatilfl 
to  such  action.  Nay,  looking  now  over  that  movement  of 
the  years  1870-78,  I can  say  in  full  confidence  that  most  of 
them  would  have  felt  satisfied  if  they  had  been  simply 
allowed  to  live  by  the  side  of  the  peasants  and  the  workers, 
to  teach  them,  to  collaborate  in  any  of  the  thousand  capaci- 
ties — private  or  as  a part  of  the  local  self-government  — 
in  which  an  educated  and  earnest  man  or  woman  can  be 
useful  to  the  masses  of  the  people.  I knew  the  men,  and 
say  so  with  full  knowledge  of  them. 

Yet  the  sentences  were  ferocious,  — stupidly  ferocious, 
because  the  movement,  which  had  grown  out  of  the  previous 
state  of  Eussia,  was  too  deeply  rooted  to  be  crushed  down 
by  mere  brutality.  Hard  labor  for  six,  ten,  twelve  years  in 
the  mines,  with  subsequent  exile  to  Siberia  for  life,  was  a 


426 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


common  sentence.  There  were  such  cases  as  that  of  a girl 
who  got  nine  years’  hard  labor  and  life  exile  to  Siberia,  for 
giving  one  socialist  pamphlet  to  a worker  ; that  was  all  her 
crime.  Another  girl  of  fourteen,  Miss  Gukdvskaya,  was 
transported  for  life  to  a remote  village  of  Siberia,  for  having 
tried,  like  Goethe’s  Klarchen,  to  excite  an  indifferent  crowd 
to  deliver  Kovalsky  and  his  friends  when  they  were  going  to 
be  hanged,  — an  act  the  more  natural  in  Russia,  even  from 
the  authorities’  standpoint,  as  there  is  no  capital  punishment 
in  our  country  for  common-law  crimes,  and  the  application 
of  the  death  penalty  to  “ politicals  ” was  then  a novelty, 
a return  to  almost  forgotten  traditions.  Thrown  into  the 
wilderness,  this  young  girl  soon  drowned  herself  in  the 
Yenisei.  Even  those  who  were  acquitted  by  the  courts 
were  banished  by  the  gendarmes  to  little  hamlets  in  Siberia 
and  Northeast  Russia,  where  they  had  to  starve  on  the 
government’s  monthly  allowance,  one  dollar  and  fifty  cents 
(three  rubles).  There  are  no  industries  in  sucji  hamlets, 
and  the  exiles  were  strictly  prohibited  from  teaching. 

As  if  to  exasperate  the  youth  still  more,  their  con- 
demned friends  were  not  sent  direct  to  Siberia.  They  were 
locked  up,  first,  for  a number  of  years,  in  central  prisons, 
which  made  them  envy  the  convict’s  life  in  Siberia.  These 
prisons  were  awful  indeed.  In  one  of  them  — “a  den  of 
typhoid  fever,”  as  a priest  of  that  particular  jail  said  in  a 
sermon  — the  mortality  reached  twenty  per  cent,  in  twelve 
months.  In  the  central  prisons,  in  the  hard-labor  prisons 
of  Siberia,  in  the  fortress,  the  prisoners  had  to  resort  to  the 
strike  of  death,  the  famine  strike,  to  protect  themselves 
from  the  brutality  of  the  warders,  or  to  obtain  conditions  — 
some  sort  of  work,  or  reading,  in  their  cells  — that  would 
save  them  from  being  driven  into  insanity  in  a few  months. 
The  horror  of  such  strikes,  during  which  men  and  women 
refused  to  take  any  food  for  seven  or  eight  days  in  suc- 
cession, and  then  lay  motionless,  their  minds  wandering, 


HORRORS  OF  RUSSIAN  PRISONS 


427 


seemed  not  to  appeal  to  the  gendarmes.  At  Khdrkoff,  the 
prostrated  prisoners  were  tied  up  with  ropes  and  fed  by 
force,  artificially. 

Information  of  these  horrors  leaked  out  from  the  prisons, 
crossed  the  boundless  distances  of  Siberia,  and  spread  far 
and  wide  among  the  youth.  There  was  a time  when  not  a 
week  passed  without  disclosing  some  new  infamy  of  that 
sort,  or  even  worse. 

Sheer  exasperation  took  hold  of  our  young  people.  “ In 
other  countries,”  they  began  to  say,  “ men  have  the  courage 
to  resist.  An  Englishman,  a Frenchman,  would  not  tolerate 
such  outrages.  How  can  we  tolerate  them  ? Let  us  resist, 
arms  in  hands,  the  nocturnal  raids  of  the  gendarmes ; 
let  them  know,  at  least,  that  since  arrest  means  a slow  and 
infamous  death  at  their  hands,  they  will  have  to  take  us  in 
a mortal  struggle.”  At  Odessa,  Kovdlsky  and  his  friends 
met  with  revolver  shots  the  gendarmes  who  came  one  night 
to  arrest  them. 

The  reply  of  Alexander  II.  to  this  new  move  was  the 
proclamation  of  a state  of  siege.  Russia  was  divided  into  a 
number  of  districts,  each  of  them  under  a governor-general, 
who  received  the  order  to  hang  offenders  pitilessly.  Ko- 
vdlsky  and  his  friends  — who,  by  the  way,  had  killed  no 
one  by  their  shots  — were  executed.  Hanging  became  the 
order  of  the  day.  Twenty-three  persons  perished  in  two 
years,  including  a boy  of  nineteen,  who  was  caught  posting 
a revolutionary  proclamation  at  a railway  station  ; this  act  — 
I say  it  deliberately  — was  the  only  charge  against  him. 
He  was  a boy,  but  he  died  like  a man. 

Then  the  watchword  of  the  revolutionists  became  “ self- 
defense  : ” self-defense  against  the  spies  who  introduced 
themselves  into  the  circles  under  the  mask  of  friendship, 
and  denounced  members  right  and  left,  simply  because  they 
would  not  be  paid  if  they  did  not  accuse  large  numbers  of 
persons ; self-defense  against  those  who  ill-treated  prisoners ; 


428 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


self-defense  against  the  omnipotent  chiefs  of  the  state 
police. 

Three  functionaries  of  mark  and  two  or  three  small  spies 
fell  in  that  new  phase  of  the  struggle.  General  Mezentsoff, 
who  had  induced  the  Tsar  to  double  the  sentences  after  the 
trial  of  the  hundred  and  ninety-three,  was  killed  in  broad  day- 
light at  St.  Petersburg ; a gendarme  colonel,  guilty  of  some- 
thing worse  than  that,  had  the  same  fate  at  Kieff ; and  the 
governor-general  of  Kharkoff  — my  cousin,  Dmitri  Kropbt- 
kin  — was  shot  as  he  was  returning  home  from  a theatre. 
The  central  prison,  in  which  the  first  famine  strike  and 
artificial  feeding  took  place,  was  under  his  orders.  In  reality, 
he  was  not  a bad  man,  — I know  that  his  personal  feelings 
were  somewhat  favorable  to  the  political  prisoners ; but  he 
was  a weak  man  and  a courtier,  and  he  hesitated  to  inter- 
fere. One  word  from  him  would  have  stopped  the  ill- 
treatment  of  the  prisoners.  Alexander  II.  liked  him  so 
much,  and  his  position  at  the  court  was  so  strong,  that  his 
interference  very  probably  would  have  been  approved. 
“ Thank  you  ; you  have  acted  according  to  my  own  wishes,” 
the  Tsar  said  to  him,  a couple  of  years  before  that  date, 
when  he  came  to  St.  Petersburg  to  report  that  he  had  taken 
a peaceful  attitude  in  a riot  of  the  poorer  population  of 
Kharkoff,  and  had  treated  the  rioters  very  leniently.  But 
this  time  he  gave  his  approval  to  the  jailers,  and  the  young 
men  of  Kharkoff  were  so  exasperated  at  the  treatment  of 
their  friends  that  one  of  them  shot  him. 

However,  the  personality  of  the  Emperor  was  kept  out 
of  the  struggle,  and  down  to  the  year  1879  no  attempt  was 
made  on  his  life.  The  person  of  the  Liberator  of  the  serfs 
was  surrounded  by  an  aureole  which  protected  him  infinitely 
better  than  the  swarms  of  police  officials.  If  Alexander  II. 
had  shown  at  this  juncture  the  least  desire  to  improve  the 
state  of  affairs  in  Russia  ; if  he  had  only  called  in  one  or  two 


DESPOTISM  OF  ALEXANDER  II 


429 


of  those  men  with  whom  he  had  collaborated  during  the  re- 
form period,  and  had  ordered  them  to  make  an  inquiry  into 
the  conditions  of  the  country,  or  merely  of  the  peasantry ; 
if  he  had  shown  any  intention  of  limiting  the  powers  of 
the  secret  police,  his  steps  would  have  been  hailed  with 
enthusiasm.  A word  would  have  made  him  “ the  Libera- 
tor ” again,  and  once  more  the  youth  would  have  repeated 
Hdrzen’s  words:  “Thou  hast  conquered,  Galilean.”  But 
just  as  during  the  Polish  insurrection  the  despot  awoke  in 
him,  and,  inspired  by  Katkdff,  he  resorted  to  hanging,  so 
now  again,  following  the  advice  of  his  evil  genius,  Katkoff, 
he  found  nothing  to  do  but  to  nominate  special  military 
governors  — for  hanging. 

Then,  and  then  only,  a handful  of  revolutionists,  — the 
Executive  Committee,  — supported,  I must  say,  by  the 
growing  discontent  in  the  educated  classes,  and  even  in 
the  Tsar’s  immediate  surroundings,  declared  that  war  against 
absolutism  which,  after  several  attempts,  ended  in  1881  in 
the  death  of  Alexander  II. 

Two  men,  I have  said  already,  lived  in  Alexander  II., 
and  now  the  conflict  between  the  two,  which  had  grown 
during  all  his  life,  assumed  a really  tragic  aspect.  When 
he  met  Solovidff,  who  shot  at  him  and  missed  the  first  shot, 
he  had  the  presence  of  mind  to  run  to  the  nearest  door,  not 
in  a straight  line,  but  in  zigzags,  while  Solovidff  continued 
to  fire ; and  he  thus  escaped  with  but  a slight  tearing  of 
his  overcoat.  On  the  day  of  his  death,  too,  he  gave  a proof 
of  his  undoubted  courage.  In  the  face  of  real  danger  he 
was  courageous  ; but  he  continually  trembled  before  the 
phantasms  of  his  own  imagination.  Once  he  shot  at  an 
aide-de-camp,  when  the  latter  had  made  an  abrupt  move- 
ment, and  Alexander  thought  he  was  going  to  attempt  his 
life.  Merely  to  save  his  life,  he  surrendered  entirely  all 
his  imperial  powers  into  the  hands  of  those  who  cared  no- 
thing  for  him,  but  only  for  their  lucrative  positions. 


430 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


He  undoubtedly  retained  an  attachment  to  the  mother  of 
his  children,  even  though  he  was  then  with  the  Princess 
Yurievski-Dolgoniki,  whom  he  married  immediately  after 
the  death  of  the  Empress.  “ Don’t  speak  to  me  of  the 
Empress ; it  makes  me  suffer  too  much,”  he  more  than 
once  said  to  L6ris  Melikoff.  And  yet  he  entirely  aban- 
doned the  Empress  Marie,  who  had  stood  faithfully  by  his 
side  while  he  was  the  Liberator;  he  let  her  die  in  the  palace 
in  neglect.  A well-known  Russian  doctor,  now  dead,  told 
his  friends  that  he,  a stranger,  felt  shocked  at  the  neglect 
with  which  the  Empress  was  treated  during  her  last  illness, 
— deserted,  of  course,  by  the  ladies  of  the  court,  having  by 
her  side  but  two  ladies,  deeply  devoted  to  her,  and  receiv- 
ing every  day  but  a short  official  visit  from  her  husband, 
who  stayed  in  another  palace  in  the  meantime. 

When  the  Executive  Committee  made  the  daring  attempt 
to  blow  up  the  Winter  Palace  itself,  Alexander  II.  took  a 
step  which  had  no  precedent.  He  created  a sort  of  dicta- 
torship, vesting  unlimited  powers  in  Ldris  Melikoff.  This 
general  was  an  Armenian,  to  whom  Alexander  II.  had  once 
before  given  similar  dictatorial  powers,  when  the  bubonic 
plague  broke  out  on  the  Lower  Vdlga,  and  Germany  threat- 
ened to  mobilize  her  troops  and  put  Russia  under  quaran- 
tine if  the  plague  were  not  stopped.  Now  that  Alexander 
II.  saw  that  he  could  not  have  confidence  in  the  vigilance 
of  even  the  palace  police,  he  gave  dictatorial  powers  to 
Loris  Melikoff,  and  as  Melikoff  had  the  reputation  of  being 
a Liberal,  this  new  move  was  interpreted  as  indicating  that 
the  convocation  of  a National  Assembly  would  soon  follow. 
As,  however,  no  new  attempts  upon  his  life  were  made  iim 
mediately  after  that  explosion,  the  Tsar  regained  confidence, 
and  a few  months  later,  before  Melikoff  had  been  allowed 
to  do  anything,  he  was  dictator  no  longer,  but  simply  min- 
ister of  the  interior.  The  sudden  attacks  of  sadness  ol 
which  I have  already  spoken,  during  which  Alexander  H. 


PLAN  FOR  A DELIBERATIVE  ASSEMBLY 


431 


reproached  himself  with  the  reactionary  character  that  his 
reign  had  assumed,  now  took  the  shape  of  violent  paroxysms 
of  tears.  He  would  sit  weeping  by  the  hour,  bringing  Meli- 
koff to  despair.  Then  he  would  ask  his  minister,  “When 
will  your  constitutional  scheme  be  ready  ? ” If,  two  days 
later,  Mdlikoff  said  that  it  was  now  ready,  the  Emperor 
seemed  to  have  forgotten  all  about  it.  “ Did  I mention 
it  ? ” he  would  ask.  “ What  for  ? We  had  better  leave 
it  to  my  successor.  That  will  be  his  gift  to  Russia.” 

When  rumors  of  a new  plot  reached  him,  he  was  ready 
to  undertake  something ; but  when  everything  seemed  to 
be  quiet  among  the  revolutionists,  he  turned  his  ear  again 
to  his  reactionary  advisers,  and  let  things  go.  Every  mo- 
ment Melikoff  expected  dismissal. 

In  February,  1881,  Melikoff  reported  that  a new  plot  had 
been  laid  by  the  Executive  Committee,  but  its  plan  could 
not  be  discovered  by  any  amount  of  searching.  Thereupon 
Alexander  II.  decided  that  a sort  of  deliberative  assembly 
of  delegates  from  the  provinces  should  be  called.  Always 
under  the  idea  that  he  would  share  the  fate  of  Louis  XVI., 
he  described  this  gathering  as  an  Assemblee  des  Notables, 
like  the  one  convoked  by  Louis  XVI.  before  the  National 
Assembly  in  1789.  The  scheme  had  to  be  laid  before  the 
council  of  state,  but  then  again  he  hesitated.  It  was  only 
on  the  morning  of  March  1 (13),  1881,  after  a final  warning 
by  Loris  Melikoff,  that  he  ordered  it  to  be  brought  before 
the  council  on  the  following  Thursday.  This  was  on  Sun- 
day, and  he  was  asked  by  Melikoff  not  to  go  out  to  the 
parade  that  day,  there  being  danger  of  an  attempt  on  his 
life.  Nevertheless,  he  went.  He  wanted  to  see  the  Grand 
Duchess  Catherine  (daughter  of  his  aunt,  Helene  Pdvlovna, 
who  had  been  one  of  the  leaders  of  the  emancipation  party 
in  1861),  and  to  carry  her  the  welcome  news,  perhaps  as 
an  expiatory  offering  to  the  memory  of  the  Empress  Marie. 
He  is  said  to  have  told  her,  “ Je  me  suis  decide  h convo- 


432 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


quer  une  Assemble  des  Notables.”  However,  this  belated 
and  half-hearted  concession  had  not  been  announced,  and 
on  his  way  back  to  the  Winter  Palace  he  was  killed. 

It  is  known  how  it  happened.  A bomb  was  thrown 
under  his  iron-clad  carriage,  to  stop  it.  Several  Circassians 
of  the  escort  were  wounded.  Rysakdff,  who  flung  the  homb, 
was  arrested  on  the  spot.  Then,  although  the  coachman  of 
the  Tsar  earnestly  advised  him  not  to  get  out,  saying  that 
he  could  drive  him  still  in  the  slightly  damaged  carriage, 
he  insisted  upon  alighting.  He  felt  that  his  military  dig- 
nity required  him  to  see  the  wounded  Circassians,  to  con- 
dole with  them  as  he  had  done  with  the  wounded  during 
the  Turkish  war,  when  a mad  storming  of  Plevna,  doomed 
to  end  in  a terrible  disaster,  was  made  on  the  day  of  his 
fete.  He  approached  Rysakdff  and  asked  him  something ; 
and  as  he  passed  close  by  another  young  man,  Grinevetsky, 
the  latter  threw  a bomb  between  himself  and  Alexander  II., 
so  that  both  of  them  should  be  killed.  They  both  lived 
but  a few  hours. 

There  Alexander  II.  lay  upon  the  snow,  profusely  bleed- 
ing, abandoned  by  every  one  of  his  followers ! All  had 
disappeared.  It  was  cadets,  returning  from  the  parade,  who 
lifted  the  suffering  Tsar  from  the  snow  and  put  him  in  a 
sledge,  covering  his  shivering  body  with  a cadet  mantle  and 
his  bare  head  with  a cadet  cap.  And  it  was  one  of  the  ter- 
rorists, Emelianoff,  with  a bomb  wrapped  in  a paper  under 
his  arm,  who,  at  the  risk  of  being  arrested  on  the  spot  and 
hanged,  rushed  with  the  cadets  to  the  help  of  the  wounded 
man.  Human  nature  is  full  of  these  contrasts. 

Thus  ended  the  tragedy  of  Alexander  II.’s  life.  People 
could  not  understand  how  it  was  possible  that  a Tsar  who 
had  done  so  much  for  Russia  should  have  met  his  death  at 
the  hands  of  revolutionists.  To  me,  who  had  the  chance 
of  witnessing  the  first  reactionary  steps  of  Alexander  IT. 
and  his  gradual  deterioration,  who  had  caught  a glimpse  of 


ASSASSINATION  OF  ALEXANDER  II 


433 


his  complex  personality,  — that  of  a born  autocrat,  whose 
violence  was  but  partially  mitigated  by  education,  of  a man 
possessed  of  military  gallantry,  but  devoid  of  the  courage 
of  the  statesman,  of  a man  of  strong  passions  and  weak 
will,  — it  seemed  that  the  tragedy  developed  with  the  un- 
avoidable fatality  of  one  of  Shakespeare’s  dramas.  Its  last 
act  was  already  written  for  me  on  the  day  when  I heard 
him  address  us,  the  promoted  officers,  on  June  13,  1862, 
immediately  after  he  had  ordered  the  first  executions  in 
Poland. 


IX 


A wild  panic  seized  the  court  circles  at  St.  Petersburg 
Alexander  III.,  who,  notwithstanding  his  colossal  stature 
and  force,  was  not  a very  courageous  man,  refused  to  move 
to  the  Winter  Palace,  and  retired  to  the  palace  of  his 
grandfather,  Paul  I.,  at  Gatchina.  I know  that  old  build- 
ing, planned  as  a Vauban  fortress,  surrounded  by  moats 
and  protected  by  watchtowers,  from  the  tops  of  which 
secret  staircases  lead  to  the  Emperor’s  study.  I have  seen 
the  trap-doors  in  the  study,  for  suddenly  throwing  an 
enemy  on  the  sharp  rocks  in  the  water  underneath,  and 
the  secret  staircase  leading  to  underground  prisons  and  to 
an  underground  passage  which  opens  on  a lake.  All  the 
palaces  of  Paul  I.  had  been  built  on  a similar  plan.  In  the 
meantime,  an  underground  gallery,  supplied  with  automatic 
electric  appliances  to  protect  it  from  being  undermined  by 
the  revolutionists,  was  dug  round  the  Anichkoff  palace,  in 
which  Alexander  III.  resided  when  he  was  heir  apparent. 

A secret  league  for  the  protection  of  the  Tsar  was  started. 
Officers  of  all  grades  were  induced  by  triple  salaries  to  join 
it,  and  to  undertake  voluntary  spying  in  all  classes  of 
society.  Comical  scenes  followed,  of  course.  Two  officers, 
without  knowing  that  they  both  belonged  to  the  league, 
would  entice  each  other  into  a disloyal  conversation,  during 
a railway  journey,  and  then  proceed  to  arrest  each  other, 
only  to  discover  at  the  last  moment  that  their  pains  had 
been  labor  lost.  This  league  still  exists  in  a more  official 
shape,  under  the  name  of  Okhrana  (Protection),  and  from 
time  to  time  frightens  the  present  Tsar  with  all  sorts  of 
concocted  “ dangers,”  in  order  to  maintain  its  existence. 


ANTI-REVOLUTIONIST  ORGANIZATIONS 


435 


A still  more  secret  organization,  the  Holy  League,  was 
formed  at  the  same  time,  under  the  leadership  of  the 
brother  of  the  Tsar,  Vladimir,  for  the  purpose  of  opposing 
the  revolutionists  in  different  ways,  one  of  which  was  to 
kill  those  of  the  refugees  who  were  supposed  to  have  been 
the  leaders  of  the  late  conspiracies.  I was  of  this  number. 
The  grand  duke  violently  reproached  the  officers  of  the 
league  for  their  cowardice,  regretting  that  there  were  none 
among  them  who  would  undertake  to  kill  such  refugees  ; 
and  an  officer,  who  had  been  a page  de  chambre  at  the  time 
I was  in  the  corps  of  pages,  was  appointed  by  the  league  to 
carry  out  this  particular  work. 

The  fact  is  that  the  refugees  abroad  did  not  interfere 
with  the  work  of  the  Executive  Committee  at  St.  Peters- 
burg. To  pretend  to  direct  conspiracies  from  Switzerland, 
while  those  who  were  at  St.  Petersburg  acted  under  a per- 
manent menace  of  death,  would  have  been  sheer  nonsense; 
and  as  Stepniak  and  I wrote  several  times,  none  of  us  would 
have  accepted  the  doubtful  task  of  forming  plans  of  action 
without  being  on  the  spot.  But  of  course  it  suited  the 
plans  of  the  St.  Petersburg  police  to  maintain  that  they 
were  powerless  to  protect  the  Tsar  because  all  plots  were 
devised  abroad,  and  their  spies  — I know  it  well  — amply 
supplied  them  with  the  desired  reports. 

Skdbeleff,  the  hero  of  the  Turkish  war,  was  also  asked 
to  join  this  league,  but  he  blankly  refused.  It  appears 
from  Ldris  Melikoffs  posthumous  papers,  part  of  which 
were  published  by  a friend  of  his  in  London,  that  when 
Alexander  III.  came  to  the  throne,  and  hesitated  to  con- 
voke the  Assembly  of  Notables,  Skdbeleff  even  made  an 
offer  to  Ldris  Melikoff  and  Count  Igndtieff  (“  the  lying 
Pasha,”  as  the  Constantinople  diplomatists  used  to  nick- 
name him),  to  arrest  Alexander  III.,  and  compel  him  to 
sign  a constitutional  manifesto ; whereupon  Ignatieff  is  said 


486 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


to  have  denounced  the  scheme  to  the  Tsar,  and  thus  to 
have  obtained  his  nomination  as  prime  minister,  in  which 
capacity  he  resorted,  with  the  advice  of  M.  Andrieux,  the 
ex-prefect  of  police  at  Paris,  to  various  stratagems  in  order 
to  paralyze  the  revolutionists. 

If  the  Russian  Liberals  had  shown  anything  like  a 
modest  courage  and  some  power  of  organized  action,  at 
that  time,  a National  Assembly  would  have  been  convoked. 
Prom  the  same  posthumous  papers  of  L<5ris  Melikoff  it 
appears  that  Alexander  III.  was  willing  for  a time  to  call 
one.  He  had  made  up  his  mind  to  do  so,  and  had  an- 
nounced it  to  his  brother.  Old  Wilhelm  I.  supported  him 
in  this  intention.  It  was  only  when  he  saw  that  the  Liberals 
undertook  nothing,  while  the  Katkoff  party  was  busy  in 
the  opposite  direction,  — M.  Andrieux  advising  him  to 
crush  the  nihilists,  and  indicating  how  it  ought  to  be  done 
(his  letter  to  this  effect  is  in  the  pamphlet  referred  to),  — 
that  Alexander  III.  finally  resolved  to  declare  that  he  would 
continue  to  be  absolute  ruler  of  the  empire. 

I was  expelled  from  Switzerland  by  order  of  the  federal 
council  a few  months  after  the  death  of  Alexander  II. 
I did  not  take  umbrage  at  this.  Assailed  by  the  monarchi- 
cal powers  on  account  of  the  asylum  which  Switzerland 
offered  to  refugees,  and  menaced  by  the  Russian  official  press 
with  a wholesale  expulsion  of  all  Swiss  governesses  and 
ladies’  maids,  who  are  numerous  in  Russia,  the  rulers  of 
Switzerland,  by  banishing  me,  gave  some  sort  of  satisfac- 
tion to  the  Russian  police.  But  I very  much  regret,  for 
the  sake  of  Switzerland  itself,  that  that  step  was  taken. 
It  was  a sanction  given  to  the  theory  of  “ conspiracies  con- 
cocted in  Switzerland,”  and  it  was  an  acknowledgment  of 
weakness,  of  which  Italy  and  France  took  advantage  at 
once.  Two  years  later,  when  Jules  Ferry  proposed  to  Italy 
and  Germany  the  partition  of  Switzerland,  his  argument 


EXPELLED  FROM  SWITZERLAND 


437 


must  have  been  that  the  Swiss  government  itself  had  ad- 
mitted that  Switzerland  was  “ a hotbed  of  international 
conspiracies.”  This  first  concession  led  to  more  arrogant 
demands,  and  has  certainly  placed  Switzerland  in  a far 
less  independent  position  than  it  might  otherwise  have 
occupied. 

The  decree  of  expulsion  was  delivered  to  me  immediately 
after  I had  returned  from  London,  where  I was  present  at 
an  anarchist  congress  in  July,  1881.  After  that  congress 
I had  stayed  for  a few  weeks  in  England,  writing  the 
first  articles  on  Eussian  affairs  from  our  standpoint  for  the 
“Newcastle  Chronicle.”  The  English  press,  at  that  time, 
was  an  echo  of  the  opinions  of  Madame  NovikofF,  — that 
is,  of  Katkoff  and  the  Eussian  state  police,  — and  I was 
most  happy  when  Mr.  Joseph  Cowen  agreed  to  give  me 
the  hospitality  of  his  paper  in  order  to  state  our  point  of 
view. 

I had  just  joined  my  wife  in  the  high  mountains  where 
.ihe  was  staying,  near  the  abode  of  Elisee  Eeclus,  when 
I was  asked  to  leave  Switzerland.  We  sent  the  little 
luggage  we  had  to  the  next  railway  station  and  went  on 
foot  to  Aigle,  enjoying  for  the  last  time  the  sight  of  the 
mountains  that  we  loved  so  much.  We  crossed  the  hills 
by  taking  short  cuts  over  them,  and  laughed  when  we  dis- 
covered that  the  short  cuts  led  to  long  windings ; and 
when  we  reached  the  bottom  of  the  valley,  we  tramped 
along  the  dusty  road.  The  comical  incident  which  always 
comes  in  such  cases  was  supplied  by  an  English  lady.  A 
richly  dressed  dame,  reclining  by  the  side  of  a gentleman 
in  a hired  carriage,  threw  several  tracts  to  the  two  poorly 
dressed  tramps,  as  she  passed  them.  I lifted  the  tracts 
from  the  dust.  She  was  evidently  one  of  those  ladies  who 
believe  themselves  to  be  Christians,  and  consider  it  their 
duty  to  distribute  religious  tracts  among  “ dissolute  foreign- 
ers.” Thinking  we  were  sure  to  overtake  the  lady  at  the  rail- 


438 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


way  station,  I wrote  on  one  of  the  pamphlets  the  well-known 
verse  relative  to  the  rich  in  the  kingdom  of  God,  and  similarly 
appropriate  quotations  about  the  Pharisees  being  the  worst 
enemies  of  Christianity.  When  we  came  to  Aigle,  the  lady 
was  taking  refreshments  in  her  carriage.  She  evidently 
preferred  to  continue  the  journey  in  this  vehicle  along  the 
lovely  valley,  rather  than  to  be  shut  up  in  a stuffy  railway 
car.  I returned  her  the  pamphlets  with  politeness,  saying 
that  I had  added  to  them  something  that  she  might  find 
useful  for  her  own  instruction.  The  lady  did  not  know 
whether  to  fly  at  me,  or  to  accept  the  lesson  with  Christian 
patience.  Her  eyes  expressed  both  impulses  in  rapid  suc- 
cession. 

My  wife  was  about  to  pass  her  examination  for  the  degree 
of  Bachelor  of  Science  at  the  Geneva  University,  and  we 
settled,  therefore,  in  a tiny  town  of  France,  Thonon,  situated 
on  the  Savoy  coast  of  the  Lake  of  Geneva,  and  stayed  there 
a couple  of  months. 

As  to  the  death  sentence  of  the  Holy  League,  a warning 
reached  me  from  one  of  the  highest  quarters  of  Russia. 
Even  the  name  of  the  lady  who  was  sent  from  St.  Peters- 
burg to  Geneva  to  be  the  head  centre  of  the  conspiracy 
became  known  to  me.  So  I simply  communicated  the  fact 
and  the  names  to  the  Geneva  correspondent  of  the  “Times,” 
asking  him  to  publish  them  if  anything  should  happen,  and 
I put  a note  to  that  effect  in  “Le  Revolte.”  After  that  I 
did  not  trouble  myself  more  about  it.  My  wife  did  not 
take  it  so  lightly,  and  the  good  peasant  woman,  Madame 
Sansaux,  who  gave  us  hoard  and  lodgings  at  Thonon,  and 
who  had  learned  of  the  plot  in  a different  way  (through  her 
sister,  who  was  a nurse  in  the  family  of  a Russian  agent), 
bestowed  the  most  touching  care  upon  me.  Her  cottage 
was  out  of  town,  and  whenever  I went  to  town  at  night  — 
sometimes  to  meet  my  wife  at  the  railway  station  — she 
always  found  a pretext  to  have  me  accompanied  by  her 


PURSUED  BY  THE  HOLY  LEAGUE 


439 


husband  with  a lantern.  “ Wait  only  a moment,  Monsieur 
Kropotkin,”  she  would  say ; “ my  husband  is  going  that 
way  for  purchases,  and  you  know  he  always  carries  a lan- 
tern ! ” Or  else  she  would  send  her  brother  to  follow  me 
at  a distance,  without  my  noticing  it. 


A 


In  October  or  November,  1881,  as  soon  as  my  wife  had 
passed  her  examination,  we  removed  from  Thonon  to 
London,  where  we  stayed  nearly  twelve  months.  Few  years 
separate  us  from  that  time,  and  yet  I can  say  that  the  in- 
tellectual life  of  London  and  of  all  England  was  quite 
different  then  from  what  it  became  a little  later.  Every 
one  knows  that  in  the  forties  England  stood  almost  at  the 
head  of  the  socialist  movement  in  Europe ; but  during  the 
years  of  reaction  that  followed,  the  great  movement,  which 
had  deeply  affected  the  working  classes,  and  in  which  all 
that  is  now  put  forward  as  scientific  or  anarchist  socialism 
had  already  been  said,  came  to  a standstill.  It  was  for- 
gotten, in  England  as  well  as  on  the  Continent,  and  what 
the  French  writers  describe  as  “the  third  awakening  of  the 
proletarians  ” had  not  yet  begun  in  Britain.  The  labors 
of  the  agricultural  commission  of  1871,  the  propaganda 
amongst  the  agricultural  laborers,  and  the  previous  efforts 
of  the  Christian  socialists  had  certainly  done  something  to 
prepare  the  way ; but  the  outburst  of  socialist  feeling  in 
England  which  followed  the  publication  of  Henry  George's 
“ Progress  and  Poverty  ” had  not  yet  taken  place. 

The  year  that  I then  passed  in  London  was  a year  of 
real  exile.  For  one  who  held  advanced  socialist  opinions, 
there  was  no  atmosphere  to  breathe  in.  There  was  no 
sign  of  that  animated  socialist  movement  which  I found 
so  largely  developed  on  my  return  in  1886.  Burns, 
Champion,  Hardie,  and  the  other  labor  leaders  were  not 
yet  heard  of;  the  Fabians  did  not  exist;  Morris  had  not 
declared  himself  a socialist ; and  the  trade  unions,  limited 


A YEAR  OF  REAL  EXILE 


441 


in  London  to  a few  privileged  trades  only,  were  hostile  to 
socialism.  The  only  active  and  outspoken  representatives 
of  the  socialist  movement  were  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hyndman, 
with  a very  few  workers  grouped  round  them.  They  had 
held  in  the  autumn  of  1881  a small  congress,  and  we  used 
to  say  jokingly  — but  it  was  very  nearly  true  — that  Mrs. 
Hyndman  had  received  all  the  congress  in  her  house. 
Moreover,  the  more  or  less  socialist  radical  movement  which 
was  certainly  going  on  in  the  minds  of  men  did  not  assert 
itself  frankly  and  openly.  That  considerable  number  of 
educated  men  and  women  who  appeared  in  public  life  four 
years  later,  and,  without  committing  themselves  to  social- 
ism, took  part  in  various  movements  connected  with  the 
well-being  or  the  education  of  the  masses,  and  who  have 
now  created  in  almost  every  city  of  England  and  Scotland 
a quite  new  atmosphere  of  reform  and  a new  society  of  re- 
formers, had  not  then  made  themselves  felt.  They  were 
there,  of  course ; they  thought  and  spoke  ; all  the  elements 
for  a widespread  movement  were  in  existence ; but,  finding 
none  of  those  centres  of  attraction  which  the  socialist  groups 
subsequently  became,  they  were  lost  in  the  crowd ; they 
did  not  know  one  another,  or  remained  unconscious  of  their 
own  selves. 

Tchaykdvskv  was  then  in  London,  and  as  in  years  past, 
we  began  a socialist  propaganda  amongst  the  workers. 
Aided  by  a few  English  workers  whose  acquaintance  we 
had  made  at  the  congress  of  1881,  or  whom  the  prosecu- 
tions against  John  Most  had  attracted  to  the  socialists,  we 
went  to  the  radical  clubs,  speaking  about  Russian  affairs, 
the  movement  of  our  youth  toward  the  people,  and  socialism 
in  general.  We  had  ridiculously  small  audiences,  seldom 
consisting  of  more  than  a dozen  men.  Occasionally  some 
gray-bearded  Chartist  would  rise  from  the  audience  and  tell 
us  that  all  we  were  saying  had  been  said  forty  years  before, 
and  was  greeted  then  with  enthusiasm  by  crowds  of  work- 


442 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


ers,  but  that  now  all  was  dead,  and  there  was  no  hope  of 
reviving  it. 

Mr.  Hyndman  had  just  published  his  excellent  exposition 
of  Marxist  socialism  under  the  title  of  “ England  for  All ; ” 
and  I remember,  one  day  in  the  summer  of  1882,  earnestly 
advising  him  to  start  a socialist  paper.  I told  him  what  small 
means  we  had  when  we  started  “ Le  Revolts,”  and  predicted 
a certain  success  if  he  would  make  the  attempt.  But  so 
unpromising  was  its  general  outlook  that  even  he  thought 
the  undertaking  would  be  absolutely  hopeless  unless  he  had 
the  means  to  defray  all  its  expenses.  Perhaps  he  was  right ; 
but  when,  less  than  three  years  later,  he  started  “ Justice,” 
f it  found  a hearty  support  among  the  workers,  and  early  in 
1886  there  were  three  socialist  papers,  and  the  social  demo- 
cratic federation  was  an  influential  body. 

In  the  summer  of  1882  I spoke,  in  broken  English,  before 
the  Durham  miners  at  their  annual  gathering  ; I deliv- 
ered lectures  at  Newcastle,  Glasgow,  and  Edinburgh  about 
the  Russian  movement,  and  was  received  with  enthusiasm, 
a crowd  of  workers  giving  hearty  cheers  for  the  nihilists, 
after  the  meeting,  in  the  street.  But  my  wife  and  I felt 
so  lonely  in  London,  and  our  efforts  to  awaken  a social- 
ist movement  in  England  seemed  so  hopeless,  that  in  the 
autumn  of  1882  we  decided  to  remove  again  to  Prance.  We 
were  sure  that  in  France  I should  soon  be  arrested ; but  we 
often  said  to  each  other,  u Better  a French  prison  than  this 
grave.” 

Those  who  are  prone  to  speak  of  the  slowness  of  evolu- 
tion ought  to  study  the  development  of  socialism  in  Eng- 
land. Evolution  is  slow ; but  its  rate  is  not  uniform.  It 
has  its  periods  of  slumber  and  its  periods  of  sudden  progress. 


XI 


We  settled  once  more  in  Thonon,  taking  lodgings  with 
our  former  hostess,  Madame  Sansaux.  A brother  of  my 
wife,  who  was  dying  of  consumption,  and  had  come  to 
Switzerland,  joined  us. 

I never  saw  such  numbers  of  Russian  spies  as  during  the 
two  months  that  I remained  at  Thonon.  To  begin  with,  as 
soon  as  we  had  engaged  lodgings,  a suspicious  character, 
who  gave  himself  out  for  an  Englishman,  took  the  other 
part  of  the  house.  Flocks,  literally  flocks  of  Russian  spies 
besieged  the  house,  seeking  admission  under  all  possible 
pretexts,  or  simply  tramping  in  pairs,  trios,  and  quartettes 
in  front  of  the  house.  I can  imagine  what  wonderful  re- 
ports they  wrote.  A spy  must  report.  If  he  should  merely 
say  that  he  has  stood  for  a week  in  the  street  without  no- 
ticing anything  mysterious,  he  would  soon  he  put  on  the 
half-pay  list  or  dismissed. 

It  was  then  the  golden  age  of  the  Russian  secret  police. 
Ignatieff’s  policy  had  borne  fruit.  There  were  two  or  three 
bodies  of  police  competing  with  one  another,  each  having 
any  amount  of  money  at  their  disposal,  and  carrying  on 
the  boldest  intrigues.  Colonel  Sudeikin,  for  instance,  chief 
of  one  of  the  branches,  — plotting  with  a certain  Degaeff, 
who  after  all  killed  him,  — denounced  Igndtieff’s  agents  to 
the  revolutionists  at  Geneva,  and  offered  to  the  terrorists  in 
Russia  all  facilities  for  killing  the  minister  of  the  interior, 
Count  Tolstdy,  and  the  Grand  Duke  Vladimir ; adding  that  he 
himself  would  then  be  nominated  minister  of  the  interior, 
with  dictatorial  powers,  and  the  Tsar  would  be  entirely  in 
his  hands.  This  activity  of  the  Russian  police  culminatedj 


444 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


later  on,  in  the  kidnapping  of  the  Prince  of  Battenherg 
from  Bulgaria. 

The  French  police,  also,  were  on  the  alert.  The  question, 
“ What  is  he  doing  at  Thonon  ? ” worried  them.  I con- 
tinued to  edit  “Le  Re  volte,”  and  wrote  articles  for  the  “En- 
cyclopaedia Britannica  ” and  the  “ Newcastle  Chronicle.” 
But  what  reports  could  be  made  out  of  that  ? One  day  the 
local  gendarme  paid  a visit  to  my  landlady.  He  had  heard 
from  the  street  the  rattling  of  some  machine,  and  wished  to 
report  that  I had  in  my  house  a secret  printing-press.  So 
he  came  in  my  absence  and  asked  the  lady  to  show  him 
the  press.  She  replied  that  there  was  none  and  suggested 
that  perhaps  the  gendarme  had  overheard  the  noise  of  her 
sewing-machine.  But  he  would  not  be  convinced  by  so 
prosaic  an  explanation,  and  actually  compelled  the  landlady 
to  sew  on  her  machine,  while  he  listened  inside  the  house 
and  outside  to  make  sure  that  the  rattling  he  had  heard 
was  the  same. 

“What  is  he  doing  all  day?”  he  asked  the  landlady. 

“ He  writes.” 

“ He  cannot  write  all  day  long.” 

“ He  saws  wood  in  the  garden  at  midday,  and  he  takes 
walks  every  afternoon  between  four  and  five.”  It  was  in 
November. 

“ Ah,  that ’s  it ! When  the  dusk  is  coming  on  ? ” (A 
la  tombee  de  la  nuit  ?)  And  he  wrote  in  his  notebook, 
“ Never  goes  out  except  at  dusk.” 

I could  not  well  explain  at  that  time  this  special  atten- 
tion of  the  Russian  spies  ; but  it  must  have  had  some 
connection  with  the  following.  When  Ignatieff  was  nomi- 
nated prime  minister,  advised  by  the  ex-prefect  of  Paris, 
Andrieux,  he  hit  on  a new  plan.  He  sent  a swarm  of  his 
agents  into  Switzerland,  and  one  of  them  undertook  the 
publication  of  a paper  which  slightly  advocated  the  exten- 
sion of  provincial  self-government  in  Russia,  but  whose  chief 


A COMPROMISE 


445 


purpose  was  to  combat  the  revolutionists,  and  to  rally  to 
its  standard  those  of  the  refugees  who  did  not  sympathize 
with  terrorism.  This  was  certainly  a means  of  sowing 
division.  Then,  when  nearly  all  the  members  of  the  Execu- 
tive Committee  had  been  arrested  in  Russia,  and  a couple 
of  them  had  taken  refuge  at  Paris,  Ignatieff  sent  an  agent 
to  Paris  to  offer  an  armistice.  He  promised  that  there 
should  be  no  further  executions  on  account  of  the  plots 
during  the  reign  of  Alexander  II.,  even  if  those  who  had 
escaped  arrest  fell  into  the  hands  of  the  government ; that 
Chernyshevsky  should  be  released  from  Siberia  ; and  that 
a commission  should  be  nominated  to  review  the  cases  of  all 
those  who  had  been  exiled  to  Siberia  without  trial.  On  the 
other  side,  he  asked  the  Executive  Committee  to  promise  to 
make  no  attempts  against  the  Tsar’s  life  until  his  coronation 
was  over.  Perhaps  the  reforms  in  favor  of  the  peasants, 
which  Alexander  III.  intended  to  make,  were  also  men- 
tioned. The  agreement  was  made  at  Paris,  and  was  kept 
on  both  sides.  The  terrorists  suspended  hostilities.  No- 
body was  executed  for  complicity  in  the  former  conspiracies ; 
those  who  were  arrested  later  on  under  this  indictment 
were  immured  in  the  Russian  Bastille  at  Schlusselburg, 
where  nothing  was  heard  of  them  for  fifteen  years,  and  where 
most  of  them  still  are.  Chernyshevsky  was  brought  back 
from  Siberia,  and  ordered  to  stay  at  Astrakhan,  where  he  was 
severed  from  all  connection  with  the  intellectual  world  of 
Russia,  and  soon  died.  A commission  went  through  Siberia, 
releasing  some  of  the  exiles,  and  specifying  terms  of  exile 
for  the  remainder.  My  brother  Alexander  received  from  it 
an  additional  five  years. 

While  I was  at  London,  in  1882,  I was  told  one  day 
that  a man  who  pretended  to  be  a bona  fide  agent  of  the 
Russian  government,  and  could  prove  it,  wanted  to  enter 
into  negotiations  with  me.  “ Tell  him  that  if  he  comes  to 
my  house  I will  throw  him  down  the  staircase,”  was  my 


446 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


reply.  Probably  the  result  was  that  while  Ignatieff  com. 
sidered  the  Tsar  guaranteed  from  the  attacks  of  the  Execu. 
tive  Committee,  he  was  afraid  that  the  anarchists  might 
make  some  attempt,  and  wanted  to  have  me  out  of  the 
way. 


XII 


The  anarchist  movement  had  undergone  a considerable 
development  in  France  during  the  years  1881  and  1882. 
It  was  generally  believed  that  the  French  mind  was 
hostile  to  communism,  and  within  the  International  Work- 
ingmen’s Association  “ collectivism  ” was  preached  instead. 
It  meant  then  the  possession  of  the  instruments  of  produc- 
tion in  common,  each  separate  group  having  to  settle  for 
itself  whether  the  consumption  of  produce  should  be  on 
individualistic  or  communistic  lines.  In  reality,  however, 
the  French  mind  was  hostile  only  to  the  monastic  com- 
munism, to  the  phalanstere  of  the  old  schools.  When  the 
Jura  Federation,  at  its  congress  of  1880,  boldly  declared 
itself  anarchist-communist,  — that  is,  in  favor  of  free  com- 
munism, — anarchism  won  wide  sympathy  in  France.  Our 
paper  began  to  spread  in  that  country,  letters  were  ex- 
changed in  great  numbers  with  French  workers,  and  an 
anarchist  movement  of  importance  rapidly  developed  at 
Paris  and  in  some  of  the  provinces,  especially  in  the  Lyons 
region.  When  I crossed  France  in  1881,  on  my  way  from 
Thonon  to  London,  I visited  Lyons,  St.  Etienne,  and 
Vienne,  lecturing  there,  and  I found  in  these  cities  a con- 
siderable number  of  workers  ready  to  accept  our  ideas. 

By  the  end  of  1882  a terrible  crisis  prevailed  in  the 
Lyons  region.  The  silk  industry  was  paralyzed,  and  the 
misery  among  the  weavers  was  so  great  that  crowds  of  chil- 
dren stood  every  morning  at  the  gates  of  the  barracks, 
where  the  soldiers  gave  away  what  they  could  spare  of 
their  bread  and  soup.  This  was  the  beginning  of  the  pop- 
ularity of  General  Boulanger,  who  had  permitted  this  dis> 


448 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


tribution  of  food.  The  miners  of  the  region  were  also  in  a 
very  precarious  state. 

I knew  that  there  was  a great  deal  of  fermentation,  but 
during  the  eleven  months  I had  stayed  at  London  I had 
lost  close  contact  with  the  French  movement.  A few 
weeks  after  I returned  to  Thonon  I learned  from  the  papers 
that  the  miners  of  Monceau-les-Mines,  incensed  at  the  vexa- 
tions of  the  ultra-Catholic  owners  of  the  mines,  had  begun 
a sort  of  movement ; they  were  holding  secret  meetings, 
talking  of  a general  strike  ; the  stone  crosses  erected  on  all 
the  roads  round  the  mines  were  thrown  down  or  blown  up 
by  dynamite  cartridges,  which  are  largely  used  by  the  miners 
in  underground  work,  and  often  remain  in  their  possession. 
The  agitation  at  Lyons  also  took  on  a more  violent  char- 
acter. The  anarchists,  who  were  rather  numerous  in  the 
city,  allowed  no  meeting  of  the  opportunist  politicians  to 
be  held  without  obtaining  a hearing  for  themselves,  — 
storming  the  platform,  as  a last  resource.  They  brought 
forward  resolutions  to  the  effect  that  the  mines  and  all 
necessaries  for  production,  as  well  as  the  dwelling-houses, 
ought  to  be  owned  by  the  nation ; and  these  resolutions 
were  carried  with  enthusiasm,  to  the  horror  of  the  middle 
classes. 

The  feeling  among  the  workers  was  growing  every  day 
against  the  opportunist  town  councilors  and  political  lead- 
ers, as  also  against  the  press,  which  made  light  of  a very 
acute  crisis,  while  nothing  was  undertaken  to  relieve  the 
widespread  misery.  As  is  usual  at  such  times,  the  fury  of 
the  poorer  people  turned  especially  against  the  places  of 
amusement  and  debauch,  which  become  only  the  more  con- 
spicuous in  times  of  desolation  and  misery,  as  they  imper- 
sonate for  the  worker  the  egotism  and  dissoluteness  of  the 
wealthier  classes.  A place  particularly  hated  by  the  work- 
ers was  the  underground  cafe  at  the  Theatre  Bellecour, 
which  remained  open  all  night,  and  where,  in  the  small 


A PANIC  AT  LYONS 


449 


hours  of  the  morning,  one  could  see  newspaper  men  and 
politicians  feasting  and  drinking  in  company  with  gay  wo- 
men. Not  a meeting  was  held  but  some  menacing  allusion 
was  made  to  that  cafe,  and  one  night  a dynamite  cartridge 
was  exploded  in  it  by  an  unknown  hand.  A worker  who 
was  occasionally  there,  a socialist,  jumped  to  blow  out  the 
lighted  fuse  of  the  cartridge,  and  was  killed,  while  a few  of 
the  feasting  politicians  were  slightly  wounded.  Next  day  j 
a dynamite  cartridge  was  exploded  at  the  doors  of  a recruit- 
ing bureau,  and  it  was  said  that  the  anarchists  intended  to 
blow  up  the  huge  statue  of  the  Virgin  which  stands  on  one 
of  the  hills  of  Lyons.  One  must  have  lived  at  Lyons  or 
in  its  neighborhood  to  realize  the  extent  to  which  the  pop- 
ulation and  the  schools  are  still  in  the  hands  of  the  Catho- 
lic clergy,  and  to  understand  the  hatred  that  the  male 
portion  of  the  population  feel  toward  the  clergy. 

A panic  now  seized  the  wealthier  classes  of  Lyons.  Some 
sixty  anarchists  — all  workers,  and  only  one  middle-class 
man,  Emile  Gautier,  who  was  on  a lecturing  tour  in  the 
region  — were  arrested.  The  Lyons  papers  undertook  at 
the  same  time  to  incite  the  government  to  arrest  me,  repre- 
senting me  as  the  leader  of  the  agitation,  who  had  come  on 
purpose  from  England  to  direct  the  movement.  Russian 
spies  began  to  parade  again  in  conspicuous  numbers  in  our 
small  town.  Almost  every  day  I received  letters,  evidently 
written  by  spies  of  the  international  police,  mentioning 
some  dynamite  plot,  or  mysteriously  announcing  that  con- 
signments of  dynamite  had  been  shipped  to  me.  I made 
quite  a collection  of  these  letters,  writing  on  each  of  them 
“ Police  Internationale,”  and  they  were  taken  away  by  the 
French  police  when  they  made  a search  in  my  house.  But 
they  did  not  dare  to  produce  these  letters  in  court,  nor  did 
they  ever  restore  them  to  me. 

Not  only  was  the  house  searched,  but  my  wife,  who  was 
going  to  Geneva,  was  arrested  at  the  station  in  Thonon,  and 


450 


MEMOIBS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


searched.  But  of  course  absolutely  nothing  was  found  to 
compromise  me  or  any  one  else. 

Ten  days  passed,  during  which  I was  quite  free  to  go 
away,  if  I wished  to  do  so.  I received  several  letters  ad- 
vising me  to  disappear,  — one  of  them  from  an  unknown 
Russian  friend,  perhaps  a member  of  the  diplomatic  staff, 
who  seemed  to  have  known  me,  and  wrote  that  I must  leave 
at  once,  because  otherwise  I should  be  the  first  victim  of 
the  extradition  treaty  which  was  about  to  be  concluded 
between  France  and  Russia.  I remained  where  I was ; 
and  when  the  “ Times  ” inserted  a telegram  saying  that  I 
had  disappeared  from  Thonon,  I wrote  a letter  to  the  paper, 
giving  my  address.  Since  so  many  of  my  friends  were 
arrested,  I had  no  intention  of  leaving. 

In  the  night  of  December  21  my  brother-in-law  died  in 
my  arms.  We  knew  that  his  illness  was  incurable,  but  it 
is  terrible  to  see  a young  life  extinguished  in  your  presence 
after  a brave  struggle  against  death.  Both  my  wife  and  I 
were  broken  down.  Three  or  four  hours  later,  as  the  dull 
winter  morning  was  dawning,  gendarmes  came  to  my  house 
to  arrest  me.  Seeing  in  what  a state  my  wife  was,  I asked 
permission  to  remain  with  her  till  the  burial  was  over,  pro- 
mising upon  my  word  of  honor  to  be  at  the  prison  door  at 
a given  hour ; but  it  was  refused,  and  the  same  night  I was 
taken  to  Lyons.  Elisee  Reclus,  notified  by  telegraph,  came 
at  once,  bestowing  on  my  wife  all  the  gentleness  of  his 
golden  heart ; friends  came  from  Geneva ; and  although 
the  funeral  was  absolutely  civil,  which  was  a novelty  in 
that  little  town,  half  of  the  population  was  at  the  burial, 
to  show  my  wife  that  the  hearts  of  the  poorer  classes  and 
the  simple  Savoy  peasants  were  with  us,  and  not  with  their 
rulers.  When  my  trial  was  going  on,  the  peasants  used  to 
come  from  the  mountain  villages  to  town  to  get  the  papers, 
and  to  see  how  my  affair  stood  before  the  court. 

Another  incident  which  profoundly  touched  me  was  tha 


ARRESTED  BY  THE  FRENCH  POLICE 


451 


arrival  at  Lyons  of  an  English  friend.  He  came  on  behalf 
of  a gentleman,  well-known  and  esteemed  in  the  English 
political  world,  in  whose  family  I had  spent  many  happy 
hours  at  London,  in  1882.  He  was  the  bearer  of  a con- 
siderable sum  of  money  for  the  purpose  of  obtaining  my 
release  on  bail,  and  he  transmitted  me  at  the  same  time  the 
message  of  my  London  friend  that  I need  not  care  in  the 
least  about  the  bail,  but  must  leave  France  immediately. 
In  some  mysterious  way  he  had  managed  to  see  me  freely, 
— not  in  the  double-grated  iron  cage  in  which  I was  al- 
lowed interviews  with  my  wife,  — and  he  was  as  much 
affected  by  my  refusal  to  accept  the  offer  as  I was  by  that 
touching  token  of  friendship  on  the  part  of  one  whom, 
with  his  excellent  wife,  I had  already  learned  to  esteem  so 
highly. 

The  French  government  wanted  to  have  one  of  those 
great  trials  which  produce  an  impression  upon  the  popula- 
tion, but  there  was  no  possibility  of  prosecuting  the  arrested 
anarchists  for  the  explosions.  It  would  have  required 
bringing  us  before  a jury,  which  in  all  probability  would 
have  acquitted  us.  Consequently,  the  government  adopted 
the  Machiavellian  course  of  prosecuting  us  for  having 
belonged  to  the  International  Workingmen’s  Association. 
There  is  in  France  a law,  passed  immediately  after  the 
fall  of  the  Commune,  under  which  men  can  be  brought  be- 
fore a simple  police  court  for  having  belonged  to  that  asso- 
ciation. The  maximum  penalty  is  five  years’  imprisonment ; 
and  a police  court  is  always  sure  to  pronounce  the  sentences 
which  are  wanted  by  the  government. 

The  trial  began  at  Lyons  in  the  first  days  of  January, 
1883,  and  lasted  about  a fortnight.  The  accusation  was 
ridiculous,  as  every  one  knew  that  none  of  the  Lyons  work- 
ers bad  ever  joined  the  International,  and  it  entirely  fell 
through,  as  may  be  seen  from  the  following  episode.  The 
only  witness  for  the  prosecution  was  the  chief  of  the  secret 


452 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


police  at  Lyons,  an  elderly  man,  who  was  treated  at  the 
court  with  the  utmost  respect.  His  report,  I must  say, 
was  quite  correct  as  concerns  the  facts.  The  anarchists,  he 
said,  had  taken  hold  of  the  population ; they  had  rendered 
opportunist  meetings  impossible,  because  they  spoke  at  each 
meeting,  preaching  communism  and  anarchism,  and  carry- 
ing with  them  the  audiences.  Seeing  that  so  far  he  had 
been  fair  in  his  testimony,  I ventured  to  ask  him  a ques- 
tion: “ Did  you  ever  hear  the  International  Workingmen’s 
Association  spoken  of  at  Lyons  ? ” 

“ Never, ” he  replied  sulkily. 

“ When  I returned  from  the  London  congress  of  1881, 
and  did  all  I could  to  have  the  International  reconstituted 
in  France,  did  I succeed  ? ” 

“No.  They  did  not  find  it  revolutionary  enough.” 

“ Thank  you,”  I said,  and  turning  toward  the  procureur 
added,  “ There ’s  all  your  prosecution  overthrown  by  your 
own  witness ! ” 

Nevertheless,  we  were  all  condemned  for  having  belonged 
to  the  International.  Four  of  us  got  the  maximum  sen- 
tence, five  years’  imprisonment  and  four  hundred  dollars’ 
fine ; the  remainder  got  from  four  years  to  one  year.  In 
fact,  they  never  tried  to  prove  anything  concerning  the 
International.  It  was  quite  forgotten.  We  were  simply 
asked  to  speak  about  anarchism,  and  so  we  did.  Not  a 
word  was  said  about  the  explosions ; and  when  one  or  two 
of  the  Lyons  comrades  wanted  to  clear  this  point,  they 
were  bluntly  told  that  they  were  not  prosecuted  for  that, 
but  for  having  belonged  to  the  International,  — to  which  I 
alone  belonged. 

There  is  always  some  comical  incident  in  such  trials,  and 
this  time  it  was  supplied  by  a letter  of  mine.  There  was 
nothing  upon  which  to  base  the  accusation.  Scores  of 
searches  had  been  made  at  the  houses  of  French  anarchists, 
but  only  two  letters  of  mine  had  been  found.  The  prosecu- 


A COMICAL  INCIDENT 


453 


tion  tried  to  make  the  best  of  them.  One  was  written  to  a 
French  worker  when  he  was  despondent.  I spoke  to  him  in 
my  letter  about  the  great  times  we  were  living  in,  the  great 
changes  coming,  the  birth  and  spreading  of  new  ideas,  and 
so  on.  The  letter  was  not  long,  and  little  capital  was  made 
out  of  it  by  the  procureur.  As  to  the  other  letter,  it  was 
twelve  pages  long.  I had  written  it  to  another  French 
friend,  a young  shoemaker.  He  earned  his  living  by  mak- 
ing shoes  in  his  own  room.  On  his  left  side  he  used  to 
have  a small  iron  stove,  upon  which  he  himself  cooked  his 
daily  meal,  and  upon  his  right  a small  stool  upon  which 
he  wrote  long  letters  to  the  comrades,  without  leaving  his 
shoemaker’s  low  bench.  After  he  had  made  just  as  many 
pairs  of  shoes  as  were  required  to  cover  the  expenses  of  his 
extremely  modest  living,  and  to  send  a few  francs  to  his 
old  mother  in  the  country,  he  would  spend  long  hours  in 
writing  letters  in  which  he  developed  the  theoretical  prin- 
ciples of  anarchism  with  admirable  good  sense  and  intel- 
ligence. He  is  now  a writer  well  known  in  France  and 
generally  respected  for  the  integrity  of  his  character.  Un- 
fortunately, at  that  time  he  would  cover  eight  or  twelve 
pages  of  note  paper  without  one  single  full  stop,  or  even  a 
comma.  I once  sat  down  and  wrote  a long  letter  in  which 
I explained  to  him  how  our  written  thoughts  subdivide 
into  sentences,  clauses,  and  phrases,  each  of  which  should 
end  with  its  appropriate  period,  semicolon,  or  comma,  and 
so  on,  — in  short,  gave  him  a little  lesson  in  the  elements 
of  punctuation.  I told  him  how  much  it  would  improve 
his  writings  if  he  adopted  this  simple  plan. 

This  letter  was  read  by  the  prosecutor  before  the  court 
and  elicited  from  him  most  pathetic  comments.  “ You  have 
heard,  gentlemen,  this  letter  ” — he  went  on,  addressing  the 
Court.  “ You  have  listened  to  it.  There  is  nothing  par- 
ticular in  it  at  first  sight.  He  gives  a lesson  in  grammar 
to  a worker.  . . , But  ” — and  here  his  voice  vibrated  with 


454 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


accents  of  a deep  emotion  — “ it  was  not  in  order  to  help 
a poor  worker  in  getting  instruction  which  he,  owing  prob- 
ably to  laziness,  failed  to  get  at  school.  It  was  not  to  help 
him  to  earn  an  honest  living.  No ! gentlemen,  it  was  writ- 
ten in  order  to  inspire  him  with  hatred  for  our  grand  and 
beautiful  institutions,  in  order  only  the  better  to  infuse  into 
him  the  venom  of  anarchism,  in  order  to  make  of  him  only 
a more  terrible  enemy  of  society.  Cursed  be  the  day  when 
Kropdtkin  set  his  foot  upon  the  soil  of  France  ! ” 

We  could  not  help  laughing  like  boys  all  the  time  he  was 
delivering  that  speech ; the  judges  stared  at  him  as  if  to  tell 
him  that  he  was  overdoing  his  role,  but  he  seemed  not  to 
notice  anything,  and,  carried  by  his  eloquence,  went  on 
speaking  with  more  and  more  theatrical  gestures  and  intona- 
tions. He  really  did  his  best  to  obtain  his  reward  from  the 
Russian  government. 

Very  soon  after  the  condemnation  the  presiding  magis- 
trate was  promoted  to  the  magistracy  of  an  assize  court. 
As  to  the  procureur  and  another  magistrate,  — one  would 
hardly  believe  it,  — the  Russian  government  offered  them 
the  Russian  cross  of  Sainte-Anne,  and  they  were  allowed 
by  the  republic  to  accept  it ! The  famous  Russian  alliance 
thus  had  its  origin  in  the  Lyons  trial. 

This  trial  — during  which  most  brilliant  anarchist 
speeches,  reported  by  all  the  papers,  were  made  by  such 
first-rate  speakers  as  the  worker  Bernard  and  Emile  Gautier, 
and  during  which  all  the  accused  took  a very  firm  attitude, 
preaching  our  doctrines  for  a fortnight  — had  a powerful 
influence  in  clearing  away  false  ideas  about  anarchism  in 
France,  and  surely  contributed  to  some  extent  to  the  re- 
vival of  socialism  in  other  countries.  As  to  the  condemna- 
tion, it  was  so  little  justified  by  the  proceedings  that  the 
French  press  — with  the  exception  of  the  papers  devoted  to 
the  government  — openly  blamed  the  magistrates.  Even 
the  moderate  “ Journal  des  Economistes  ” found  fault  with 


UNJUSTLY  CONDEMNED 


455 


the  verdict,  ■which  “ nothing  in  the  proceedings  before  the 
court  could  have  made  one  foresee.”  The  contest  between 
the  accusers  and  ourselves  was  won  by  us,  in  the  public 
opinion.  Immediately  a proposition  of  amnesty  was  brought 
before  the  Chamber,  and  received  about  a hundred  votes  in 
support  of  it.  It  came  up  regularly  every  year,  each  time 
securing  more  and  more  voices,  until  we  were  released. 


XIII 


The  trial  was  over,  but  I remained  for  another  couple  of 
months  in  the  Lyons  prison.  Most  of  my  comrades  had 
lodged  an  appeal  against  the  decision  of  the  police  court, 
and  we  had  to  wait  for  its  results.  With  four  more  com- 
rades, I refused  to  take  any  part  ia  that  appeal  to  a higher 
court,  and  continued  to  work  in  my  pistole.  A great  friend 
of  mine  — Martin,  a clothier  from  Vienne  — took  another 
pistole  by  the  side  of  the  one  which  I occupied,  and  as 
we  were  already  condemned,  we  were  allowed  to  take  our 
walks  together  ; and  when  we  had  something  to  say  to  each 
other  between  the  walks,  we  used  to  correspond  by  means 
of  taps  on  the  wall,  just  as  in  Russia. 

During  my  sojourn  at  Lyons  I began  to  realize  the  awfully 
demoralizing  influence  of  the  prisons  upon  the  prisoners, 
which  brought  me  later  to  condemn  unconditionally  the 
whole  institution. 

The  Lyons  prison  is  a “ modern  ” structure,  built  in  the. 
shape  of  a star,  on  the  cellular  system.  The  spaces  be- 
tween the  rays  of  the  star  are  occupied  by  small  asphalt 
paved  yards,  and,  weather  permitting,  the  inmates  are  taken 
to  these  yards  to  work  outdoors.  The  chief  occupation  is 
the  beating  out  of  silk  cocoons  to  obtain  floss  silk.  Flocks 
of  children  are  also  taken  at  certain  hours  to  these  yards. 
Thin,  enervated,  underfed,  — the  shadows  of  children,  — I 
often  watched  them  from  my  window.  Anaemia  was 
plainly  written  on  all  the  little  faces  and  manifest  in  their 
thin,  shivering  bodies ; and  all  day  long  — not  only  in 
the  dormitories,  but  even  in  the  yards,  in  the  full  light  of 
the  sun  — they  pursued  their  debilitating  practices.  What 


EVILS  OF  THE  PRISON  SYSTEM 


457 


will  become  of  them  after  they  have  passed  through  that 
schooling  and  come  out  with  their  health  ruined,  their  wills 
annihilated,  their  energy  reduced  ? Anaemia,  with  its  dimin- 
ished energy,  its  unwillingness  to  work,  its  enfeebled  will, 
weakened  intellect,  and  perverted  imagination,  is  responsible 
for  crime  to  an  infinitely  greater  extent  than  plethora,  and  it 
is  precisely  this  enemy  of  the  human  race  which  is  bred  in 
prison.  And  then  — the  teachings  which  these  children 
receive  in  their  surroundings ! Mere  isolation,  even  if  it 
were  rigorously  carried  out  — and  it  cannot  be  — would  be 
of  little  avail ; the  whole  atmosphere  of  every  prison  is 
an  atmosphere  of  glorification  of  that  sort  of  gambling  in 
“ clever  strokes  ” which  constitutes  the  very  essence  of  theft, 
swindling,  and  all  sorts  of  similar  anti-social  deeds.  Whole 
generations  of  future  criminals  are  bred  in  these  nurseries, 
which  the  state  supports  and  which  society  tolerates,  simply 
because  it  does  not  want  to  hear  its  own  diseases  spoken  of 
and  dissected.  “ Imprisoned  in  childhood,  jail  bird  for 
life,”  is  what  I heard  afterwards  from  all  those  who  were 
interested  in  criminal  matters.  And  when  I saw  these  chil- 
dren, and  realized  what  they  have  to  expect  in  the  future, 
I could  not  but  continually  ask  myself : “ Which  of  them 
is  the  worse  criminal  ? — this  child  or  the  judge  who  con- 
demns every  year  hundreds  of  children  to  this  fate  ? ” I 
gladly  admit  that  the  crime  of  the  judge  is  unconscious. 
But  are  all  the  crimes  for  which  people  are  sent  to  prison 
as  conscious  as  they  are  supposed  to  be  ? 

There  was  another  point  which  I vividly  realized  from 
the  very  first  weeks  of  my  imprisonment,  but  which  in 
some  inconceivable  way  has  escaped  the  attention  of  both 
the  judges  and  the  writers  on  criminal  law ; namely,  that 
imprisonment  is  in  an  immense  number  of  cases  a punish- 
ment which  bears  far  more  severely  upon  quite  innocent 
people  than  upon  the  condemned  prisoner  himself. 

Nearly  every  one  of  my  comrades,  who  represented  a fair 


458 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


average  of  the  working  population,  had  either  wife  and 
children  to  support,  or  a sister  or  old  mother  who  depended 
for  her  living  upon  his  earnings.  Now  being  left  without 
support,  all  of  these  women  did  their  best  to  get  work,  and 
some  of  them  got  it ; but  none  of  them  succeeded  in  earn- 
ing regularly  even  as  much  as  thirty  cents  (1  fr.  50  c.)  a 
day.  Nine  francs  (less  than  two  dollars)  and  often  only 
a dollar  and  a half  a week  to  support  themselves  and 
their  children,  — these  were  their  earnings.  And  that 
meant,  of  course,  underfeeding,  privations  of  all  sorts,  and 
deterioration  of  health,  weakened  intellect,  impaired  energy 
and  will  power.  I thus  realized  that  what  was  going  on 
in  our  law  courts  was  in  reality  a condemnation  of  quite 
innocent  people  to  all  sorts  of  hardship  ; in  most  cases 
even  worse  than  those  to  which  the  condemned  man  him- 
self is  subjected.  The  fiction  is  that  the  law  punishes  the 
man  by  inflicting  upon  him  a variety  of  degrading  physical 
and  mental  hardships.  But  man  is  so  made  that  whatever 
hardships  may  be  imposed  upon  him,  he  gradually  grows  ac- 
customed to  them.  If  he  cannot  modify  them,  he  accepts 
them,  and  after  a certain  time  he  puts  up  with  them,  just 
as  he  puts  up  with  a chronic  disease,  and  grows  insensible 
to  them.  But  during  his  imprisonment  what  becomes 
of  his  wife  and  children,  or  of  the  other  innocent  people 
who  depended  upon  his  support  ? They  are  punished  even 
more  cruelly  than  he  himself  is.  And,  in  our  routine 
habits  of  thought,  no  one  ever  thinks  of  the  immense  in- 
justice which  is  thu3  committed.  I realized  it  only  from 
actual  experience. 

In  the  middle  of  March,  1883,  twenty-two  of  us,  who 
had  been  condemned  to  more  than  one  year  of  imprison- 
ment, were  removed  in  great  secrecy  to  the  central  prison 
of  Clairvaux.  It  was  formerly  an  abbey  of  St.  Bernard,  of 
which  the  great  Revolution  had  made  a house  for  the  poor. 


IN  THE  PRISON  OF  CLAIRVAUX 


459 


Subsequently  it  became  a house  of  detention  and  correction, 
which  went  among  the  prisoners  and  the  officials  themselves 
under  the  well-deserved  nickname  of  “ house  of  detention 
and  corruption.” 

So  long  as  we  were  kept  at  Lyons  we  were  treated  as  the 
prisoners  under  preliminary  arrest  are  treated  in  France ; 
that  is,  we  had  our  own  clothes,  we  could  get  our  own  food 
from  a restaurant,  and  one  could  hire  for  a few  francs  per 
month  a larger  cell,  a pistole.  I took  advantage  of  this 
for  working  hard  upon  my  articles  for  the  “ Encyclopaedia 
Britannica”  and  the  “Nineteenth  Century.”  Now,  the 
treatment  we  should  have  at  Clairvaux  was  an  open  ques- 
tion. However,  in  France  it  is  generally  understood  that, 
for  political  prisoners,  the  loss  of  liberty  and  the  forced  in- 
activity are  in  themselves  so  hard  that  there  is  no  need  to 
inflict  additional  hardships.  Consequently,  we  were  told 
that  we  should  remain  under  the  same  regime  that  we  had 
had  at  Lyons.  We  should  have  separate  quarters,  retain 
our  own  clothes,  be  free  of  compulsory  work,  and  be  al- 
lowed to  smoke.  “ Those  of  you,”  the  governor  said,  “ who 
wish  to  earn  something  by  manual  work  will  be  enabled  to 
do  so  by  sewing  stays  or  engraving  small  things  in  mother 
of  pearl.  This  work  is  poorly  paid ; but  you  could  not  be 
employed  in  the  prison  workshops  for  the  fabrication  of 
iron  beds,  picture  frames,  and  so  on,  because  that  would 
require  your  lodging  with  the  common-law  prisoners.”  Like 
the  other  prisoners,  we  were  allowed  to  buy  from  the  prison 
canteen  some  additional  food  and  a pint  of  claret  every  day, 
both  being  supplied  at  a very  low  price  and  of  good  quality. 

The  first  impression  which  Clairvaux  produced  upon  me 
was  most  favorable.  We  had  been  locked  up  and  had  been 
traveling  all  the  day,  from  two  or  three  o’clock  in  the 
morning,  in  those  tiny  cupboards  into  which  the  railway 
carriages  used  for  the  transportation  of  prisoners  are  usually 
divided.  When  we  reached  the  central  prison,  we  were 


460 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


taken  temporarily  to  the  penal  quarters,  and  were  intro- 
duced into  extremely  clean  cells.  Hot  food,  plain  but  of 
excellent  quality,  had  been  served  to  us  notwithstanding 
the  late  hour  of  the  night,  and  we  had  been  offered  the 
opportunity  of  having  a half-pint  each  of  the  very  good 
vin  du  pays,  which  was  sold  at  the  prison  canteen  at  the 
extremely  modest  price  of  twenty-four  centimes  (less  than 
five  cents)  per  quart.  The  governor  and  all  the  warders 
were  most  polite  to  us. 

Next  day  the  governor  of  the  prison  took  me  to  see  the 
rooms  which  he  intended  to  give  us,  and  when  I remarked 
that  they  were  all  right,  only  a little  too  small  for  such  a 
number,  — we  were  twenty-two,  — and  that  overcrowding 
might  result  in  illness,  he  gave  us  another  set  of  rooms  in 
what  had  been  in  olden  times  the  house  of  the  superin- 
tendent of  the  abbey,  and  was  now  the  hospital.  Our 
windows  looked  down  upon  a little  garden  and  off  upon 
beautiful  views  of  the  surrounding  country.  In  another 
room,  on  the  same  landing,  old  Blanqui  had  been  kept  the 
last  three  or  four  years  before  his  release.  Before  that  he 
was  confined  in  one  of  the  cells  in  the  cellular  house. 

We  obtained  thus  three  spacious  rooms,  and  a smaller 
room  was  spared  for  Gautier  and  myself,  so  that  we  could 
pursue  our  literary  work.  We  probably  owed  this  last 
favor  to  the  intervention  of  a considerable  number  of  Eng- 
lish men  of  science,  who,  as  soon  as  I was  condemned,  had 
signed  a petition  asking  for  my  release.  Many  contributors 
to  the  “Encyclopaedia  Britannica,”  Herbert  Spencer,  and 
Swinburne  were  among  the  signers,  while  Victor  Hugo  had 
added  to  his  signature  a few  warm  words.  Altogether, 
public  opinion  in  France  received  our  condemnation  very 
unfavorably  ; and  when  my  wife  had  mentioned  at  Paris 
that  I required  books,  the  Academy  of  Sciences  offered  its 
library,  and  Ernest  Renan,  in  a charming  letter,  put  his 
private  library  at  her  service. 


WRITING  AND  TEACHING  IN  PRISON 


461 


We  had  a small  garden,  where  we  could  play  ninepins 
or  jeu  de  boules,  and  soon  we  managed  to  cultivate  a nar- 
row bed  along  the  building’s  wall,  in  which,  on  a surface  of 
some  eighty  square  yards,  we  grew  almost  incredible  quan- 
tities of  lettuce  and  radishes,  as  well  as  some  flowers.  I 
need  not  say  that  at  once  we  organized  classes,  and  during 
the  three  years  that  we  remained  at  Clairvaux  I gave  my 
comrades  lessons  in  cosmography,  geometry,  or  physics,  also! 
aiding  them  in  the  study  of  languages.  Nearly  every  one 
learned  at  least  one  language,  — English,  German,  Italian, 
or  Spanish,  — while  a few  learned  two.  We  also  managed 
to  do  some  bookbinding,  having  learned  how  from  one  of 
those  excellent  Encyclopedic  Roret  booklets. 

At  the  end  of  the  first  year,  however,  my  health  again 
gave  way.  Clairvaux  is  built  on  marshy  ground,  upon 
which  malaria  is  endemic,  and  malaria,  with  scurvy,  laid 
hold  of  me.  Then  my  wife,  who  was  studying  at  Paris, 
working  in  Wfirtz’s  laboratory  and  preparing  to  take  an 
examination  for  the  degree  of  Doctor  of  Science,  abandoned 
everything,  and  came  to  the  tiny  hamlet  of  Clairvaux, 
which  consists  of  less  than  a dozen  houses  grouped  at  the 
foot  of  an  immense  high  wall  which  encircles  the  prison. 
Of  course,  her  life  in  that  hamlet,  with  the  prison  wall  op- 
posite, was  anything  but  gay ; yet  she  stayed  there  till  I 
was  released.  During  the  first  year  she  was  allowed  to  see 
me  only  once  in  two  months,  and  all  interviews  were  held 
in  the  presence  of  a warder,  who  sat  between  us.  But 
when  she  settled  at  Clairvaux,  declaring  her  firm  intention 
to  remain  there,  she  was  soon  permitted  to  see  me  every 
day,  in  one  of  the  small  houses  within  the  prison  walls 
where  a post  of  warders  was  kept,  and  food  was  brought 
me  from  the  inn  where  she  stayed.  Later,  we  were  even 
allowed  to  take  a walk  in  the  governor’s  garden,  closely 
watched  all  the  time,  and  usually  one  of  my  comrades  joined 
us  in  the  walk. 


462 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


I was  quite  astonished  to  discover  that  the  central  prison 
of  Clairvaux  had  all  the  aspects  of  a small  manufacturing 
town,  surrounded  by  orchards  and  cornfields,  all  encircled 
by  an  outer  wall.  The  fact  is,  that  if  in  a French  central 
prison  the  inmates  are  perhaps  more  dependent  upon  the 
fancies  and  caprices  of  the  governor  and  the  warders  than 
they  seem  to  be  in  English  prisons,  the  treatment  of  the 
prisoners  is  far  more  humane  than  it  is  in  the  correspond- 
ing institutions  on  the  other  side  of  the  Channel.  The 
medieeval  revengeful  system  which  still  prevails  in  English 
prisons  has  been  given  up  long  since  in  France.  The  im- 
prisoned man  is  not  compelled  to  sleep  on  planks,  or  to 
have  a mattress  on  alternate  days  only ; the  day  he  comes 
to  prison  he  gets  a decent  bed,  and  retains  it.  He  is  not 
compelled,  either,  to  degrading  work,  such  as  to  climb  a 
wheel,  or  to  pick  oakum  ; he  is  employed,  on  the  contrary, 
in  useful  work,  and  this  is  why  the  Clairvaux  prison  has 
the  aspect  of  a manufacturing  town,  iron  furniture,  picture 
frames,  looking-glasses,  metric  measures,  velvet,  linen,  ladies’ 
stays,  small  things  in  mother  of  pearl,  wooden  shoes,  and 
so  on,  being  made  by  the  nearly  sixteen  hundred  men  who 
are  kept  there. 

Moreover,  if  the  punishment  for  insubordination  is  very 
cruel,  there  is,  at  least,  none  of  the  flogging  which  goes 
on  still  in  English  prisons.  Such  a punishment  would  be 
absolutely  impossible  in  France.  Altogether,  the  central 
prison  at  Clairvaux  may  be  described  as  one  of  the  best 
penal  institutions  in  Europe.  And,  with  all  that,  the  re- 
sults obtained  at  Clairvaux  are  as  bad  as  in  any  of  the  prisons 
of  the  old  type.  “ The  watchword  nowadays  is  that  con- 
victs are  reformed  in  our  prisons,”  one  of  the  members  of 
the  prison  administration  once  said  to  me.  “ This  is  all 
nonsense,  and  I shall  never  be  induced  to  tell  such  a lie.” 

Tlje  pharmacy  at  Clairvaux  was  underneath  the  rooms 


SAD  CONDITION  OF  AGED  PRISONERS 


463 


which  we  occupied,  and  we  occasionally  had  some  contact 
with  the  prisoners  who  were  employed  in  it.  One  of  them 
was  a gray-haired  man  in  his  fifties,  who  ended  his  term 
while  we  were  there.  It  was  touching  to  learn  how  he 
parted  with  the  prison.  He  knew  that  in  a few  months  or 
weeks  he  would  be  back,  and  begged  the  doctor  to  keep 
the  place  at  the  pharmacy  open  for  him.  This  was  not  his 
first  visit  to  Clairvaux,  and  he  knew  it  would  not  be  the 
last.  When  he  was  set  free  he  had  not  a soul  in  the  world 
to  whom  he  might  go  to  spend  his  old  age.  “ Who  will 
care  to  employ  me  ? ” he  said.  “ And  what  trade  have  I ? 
None  1 When  I am  out  I must  go  to  my  old  comrades ; 
they,  at  least,  will  surely  receive  me  as  an  old  friend.” 
Then  would  come  a glass  too  much  of  drink  in  their  com- 
pany, excited  talk  about  some  capital  fun,  — some  “ new 
stroke  ” to  be  made  in  the  way  of  theft,  — and,  partly  from 
weakness  of  will,  partly  to  oblige  his  only  friends,  he  would 
join  in  it,  and  would  be  locked  up  once  more.  So  it  had 
been  several  times  before  in  his  life.  Two  months  passed, 
however,  after  his  release,  and  he  had  not  yet  returned  to 
Clairvaux.  Then  the  prisoners,  and  the  warders  too,  began 
to  feel  uneasy  about  him.  “ Has  he  had  time  to  move  to 
another  judicial  district,  that  he  is  not  yet  back  ? ” “ One 

can  only  hope  that  he  has  not  been  involved  in  some  bad 
affair,”  they  would  say,  meaning  something  worse  than 
theft.  t(  That  would  be  a pity  : he  was  such  a nice,  quiet 
man.”  But  it  soon  appeared  that  the  first  supposition  was 
the  right  one.  Word  came  from  another  prison  that  the 
old  man  was  locked  up  there,  and  was  now  endeavoring  to 
be  transferred  to  Clairvaux. 

The  old  men  were  the  most  pitiful  sight.  Many  of  them 
had  begun  their  prison  experience  in  childhood  or  early 
youth ; others  at  a riper  age.  But  “ once  in  prison,  al- 
ways in  prison  ; ” such  is  the  saying  derived  from  experi- 
ence And  now,  having  reached  or  passed  beyond  the  age 


464 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


of  sixty,  they  knew  that  they  must  end  their  lives  in  prison. 
To  quicken  their  departure  from  life  the  prison  administra- 
tion used  to  send  them  to  the  workshops  where  felt  socks 
were  made  out  of  all  sorts  of  woolen  refuse.  The  dust  in 
the  workshop  soon  induced  the  consumption  which  finally 
released  them.  Then,  four  fellow  prisoners  would  carry 
the  old  man  to  the  common  grave,  the  graveyard  warder 
and  his  black  dog  being  the  only  two  beings  to  follow  him ; 
and  while  the  prison  priest  marched  in  front  of  the  proces- 
sion, mechanically  reciting  his  prayer  and  looking  round 
at  the  chestnut  or  fir  trees  along  the  road,  and  the  four 
comrades  carrying  the  coffin  were  enjoying  the  momentary 
freedom  from  confinement,  the  black  dog  would  be  the  only 
being  affected  by  the  solemnity  of  the  ceremony. 

When  the  reformed  central  prisons  were  introduced  in 
France,  it  was  believed  that  the  principle  of  absolute  silence 
could  be  maintained  in  them.  But  it  is  so  contrary  to 
human  nature  that  its  strict  enforcement  had  to  be  aban- 
doned. 

To  the  outward  observer  the  prison  seems  to  be  quite 
mute ; but  in  reality  life  goes  on  in  it  as  busily  as  in  a 
small  town.  In  suppressed  voices,  by  means  of  whispers, 
hurriedly  dropped  words,  and  scraps  of  notes,  all  news  of 
any  interest  spreads  immediately  throughout  the  prison.  No- 
thing can  happen  either  among  the  prisoners  themselves,  or 
in  the  “ cour  d’honneur,”  where  the  lodgings  of  the  adminis- 
tration are  situated,  or  in  the  village  of  Clairvaux,  or  in 
the  wide  world  of  Paris  politics,  that  is  not  communicated 
at  once  throughout  all  the  dormitories,  workshops,  and  cells. 
Frenchmen  are  too  communicative  to  admit  of  their  under- 
ground telegraph  ever  being  stopped.  We  had  no  inter- 
course with  the  common-law  prisoners,  and  yet  we  knew  all 
the  news  of  the  day.  “ John,  the  gardener,  is  back  for  two 
years.”  “ Such  an  inspector’s  wife  has  had  a fearful  scrim- 


COMMUNICATION  AMONG  PRISONERS 


465 


mage  with  So  and  So’s  wife.”  “James,  in  the  cells,  has 
been  caught  transmitting  a note  of  friendship  to  John  of  the 
framers’  workshop.”  “ That  old  beast  So  and  So  is  no 
longer  Minister  of  Justice  ; the  ministry  was  upset ; ” and 
so  on ; and  when  the  word  goes  that  “ Jack  has  got  two 
five-penny  packets  of  tobacco  in  exchange  for  two  flannel 
jackets,”  it  makes  the  tour  of  the  prison  very  quickly.  On 
one  occasion  a petty  lawyer,  detained  in  the  prison,  wished 
to  transmit  to  me  a note,  in  order  to  ask  my  wife,  who  was 
staying  in  the  village,  to  see  from  time  to  time  his  wife, 
who  was  also  there,  — and  quite  a number  of  men  took  the 
liveliest  interest  in  the  transmission  of  that  message,  which 
had  to  pass  through  I don’t  know  how  many  hands  before 
it  reached  me.  When  there  was  something  that  might 
specially  interest  us  in  a paper,  this  paper,  in  some  un- 
accountable way,  would  reach  us,  wrapped  about  a little 
stone  and  thrown  over  the  high  wall. 

Confinement  in  a cell  is  no  obstacle  to  communication. 
When  we  came  to  Clairvaux  and  were  first  lodged  in  the 
cellular  quarter,  it  was  bitterly  cold  in  the  cells ; so  cold, 
indeed,  that  I could  hardly  write,  and  when  my  wife,  who 
was  then  at  Paris,  got  my  letter,  she  did  not  recognize  my 
handwriting.  The  order  came  to  heat  the  cells  as  much  as 
possible ; but  do  what  they  might,  the  cells  remained  as 
cold  as  ever.  It  appeared  afterwards  that  all  the  hot  air 
tubes  were  choked  with  scraps  of  paper,  bits  of  notes,  pen- 
knives, and  all  sorts  of  small  things  which  several  genera- 
tions of  prisoners  had  concealed  in  the  pipes. 

Martin,  the  same  friend  of  mine  whom  I have  already 
mentioned,  obtained  permission  to  serve  part  of  his  time  in 
cellular  confinement.  He  preferred  isolation  to  life  in  a 
room  with  a dozen  others,  and  so  went  to  a cell.  To  his 
great  astonishment  he  found  that  he  was  not  at  all  alone. 
The  walls  and  the  keyholes  spoke.  In  a short  time  all 
the  inmates  of  the  cells  knew  who  he  was,  and  he  had 


466 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


acquaintances  all  over  the  building.  Quite  a life  goes  on, 
as  in  a beehive,  between  the  seemingly  isolated  cells ; only 
that  life  often  takes  such  a character  as  to  make  it  belong 
entirely  to  the  domain  of  psychopathy.  Kraft-Ebbing  him- 
self had  no  idea  of  the  aspects  it  assumes  with  certain 
prisoners  in  solitary  confinement. 

I will  not  repeat  here  what  I have  said  in  a book,  “ In 
Russian  and  French  Prisons,”  which  I published  in  Eng- 
land in  1886,  soon  after  my  release  from  Clairvaux,  upon 
the  moral  influence  of  prisoners  upon  prisoners.  But  there 
is  one  thing  which  must  be  said.  The  prison  population 
consists  of  heterogeneous  elements ; but,  taking  only  those 
who  are  usually  described  as  “ the  criminals  ” proper,  and 
of  whom  we  have  heard  so  much  lately  from  Lombroso  and 
his  followers,  what  struck  me  most  as  regards  them  was 
that  the  prisons,  which  are  considered  as  preventive  of  anti- 
social deeds,  are  exactly  the  institutions  for  breeding  them. 
Every  one  knows  that  absence  of  education,  dislike  of  regu- 
lar work,  physical  incapability  of  sustained  effort,  misdi- 
rected love  of  adventure,  gambling  propensities,  absence  of 
energy,  an  untrained  will,  and  carelessness  about  the  hap- 
piness of  others  are  the  causes  which  bring  this  class  of 
people  before  the  courts.  Now  I was  deeply  impressed 
during  my  imprisonment  by  the  fact  that  it  is  exactly  these 
defects  of  human  nature  — each  one  of  them  — which  the 
prison  breeds  in  its  inmates ; and  it  is  bound  to  breed  them 
because  it  is  a prison,  and  will  breed  them  so  long  as  it 
exists.  Incarceration  in  a prison  of  necessity  entirely  de- 
stroys the  energy  of  a man  and  annihilates  his  will.  In 
prison  life  there  is  no  room  for  exercising  one’s  will ; to 
possess  one’s  own  will  in  prison  means  surely  to  get  into 
trouble.  The  will  of  the  prisoner  must  be  killed,  and  it 
is  killed.  Still  less  room  is  there  for  exercising  one’s  nat- 
ural sympathies,  everything  being  done  to  prevent  free 
contact  with  all  those,  outside  and  inside,  with  whom  the 


THE  MORAL  INFLUENCE  OF  PRISONS 


467 


prisoner  may  have  feelings  of  sympathy.  Physically  and 
mentally  he  is  rendered  less  and  less  capable  of  sustained 
effort,  and  if  he  has  had  already  a dislike  for  regular  work, 
this  dislike  is  only  the  more  increased  during  his  prison 
years.  If,  before  he  first  came  to  the  prison,  he  was  easily 
wearied  by  monotonous  work  which  he  could  not  do  pro- 
perly, or  had  an  antipathy  to  underpaid  overwork,  his  dis- 
like now  becomes  hatred.  If  he  doubted  about  the  social 
utility  of  current  rules  of  morality,  now  after  having  cast  a 
critical  glance  upon  the  official  defenders  of  these  rules,  and 
learned  his  comrades’  opinions  of  them,  he  openly  throws 
these  rules  overboard.  And  if  he  has  got  into  trouble  in 
consequence  of  a morbid  development  of  the  passionate, 
sensual  side  of  his  nature,  now,  after  having  spent  a num- 
ber of  years  in  prison,  this  morbid  character  is  still  more 
developed,  in  many  cases  to  an  appalling  extent.  In  this 
last  direction  — the  most  dangerous  of  all  — prison  educa- 
tion is  most  effective. 

In  Siberia  I had  seen  what  sinks  of  filth  and  what  hot- 
beds of  physical  and  moral  deterioration  the  dirty,  over- 
crowded, “ unreformed  ” Russian  prisons  were,  and  at  the 
age  of  nineteen  I imagined  that  if  there  were  less  over- 
crowding in  the  rooms  and  a certain  classification  of  the 
prisoners,  and  if  healthy  occupations  were  provided  for 
them,  the  institution  might  be  substantially  improved. 
Now  I had  to  part  with  these  illusions.  I could  convince 
myself  that  as  regards  their  effects  upon  the  prisoners  and 
their  results  for  society  at  large,  the  best  “ reformed  ” 
prisons  — whether  cellular  or  not  — are  as  bad  as,  or 
even  worse  than  the  dirty  prisons  of  old.  They  do  not 
reform  the  prisoners.  On  the  contrary,  in  the  immense, 
overwhelming  majority  of  cases  they  exercise  upon  them 
the  most  deteriorating  effect.  The  thief,  the  swindler,  the 
rough,  who  has  spent  some  years  in  a prison,  comes  out  of 
it  more  ready  than  ever  to  resume  his  former  career ; he  is 


468 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


better  prepared  for  it ; he  has  learned  to  do  it  better ; he 
is  more  embittered  against  society,  and  he  finds  a more 
solid  justification  for  being  in  revolt  against  its  laws  and 
customs ; necessarily,  unavoidably,  he  is  bound  to  sink 
deeper  and  deeper  into  the  anti-social  acts  which  first 
brought  him  before  a law  court.  The  offenses  he  will  com- 
mit after  his  release  will  inevitably  be  graver  than  those 
which  first  got  him  into  trouble ; and  he  is  doomed  to 
finish  his  life  in  a prison  or  in  a hard-labor  colony.  In  the 
above-mentioned  book  I said  that  prisons  are  “ universities 
of  crime,  maintained  by  the  state.”  And  now,  thinking  of 
it  at  fifteen  years’  distance,  in  the  light  of  my  subsequent 
experience,  I can  only  confirm  that  statement  of  mine. 

Personally,  I have  no  reason  whatever  to  complain  of 
the  years  I spent  in  a French  prison.  For  an  active  and 
independent  man  the  restraint  of  liberty  and  activity  is  in 
itself  so  great  a privation  that  all  the  remainder  — all  the 
petty  miseries  of  prison  life  — are  not  worth  speaking  of. 
Of  course,  when  we  heard  of  the  active  political  life  which 
was  going  on  in  France,  we  resented  very  much  our  forced 
inactivity.  The  end  of  the  first  year,  especially  during  a 
gloomy  winter,  is  always  hard  for  the  prisoner.  And  when 
spring  comes,  one  feels  more  strongly  than  ever  the  want 
of  liberty.  When  I saw  from  our  windows  the  meadows 
assuming  their  green  garb,  and  the  hills  covered  with  a 
spring  haze,  or  when  I saw  a train  flying  into  a dale  be- 
tween the  hills,  I certainly  felt  a strong  desire  to  follow  it 
and  to  breathe  the  air  of  the  woods,  or  to  be  carried  along 
with  the  stream  of  human  life  in  a busy  town.  But  one 
who  casts  his  lot  with  an  advanced  party  must  be  prepared 
to  spend  a number  of  years  in  prison,  and  he  need  not 
grudge  it.  He  feels  that  even  during  his  imprisonment  he 
remains  not  quite  an  inactive  part  of  the  movement  which 
spreads  and  strengthens  the  ideas  that  are  dear  to  him. 

At  Lyons,  my  comrades,  my  wife,  and  myself  certainly 


THE  CRIMINAL  TYPE 


469 


found  the  warders  a very  rough  set  of  men.  But  after 
a couple  of  encounters  all  was  set  right.  Moreover  the 
prison  administration  knew  that  we  had  the  Paris  press 
with  us,  and  they  did  not  want  to  draw  upon  themselves 
the  thunders  of  Rochefort  or  the  cutting  criticisms  of 
Clemenceau.  And  at  Clairvaux  there  was  no  need  of  such 
restraint.  All  the  administration  had  been  renewed  a few 
months  before  we  came  thither.  A prisoner  had  been 
killed  by  warders  in  his  cell,  and  his  corpse  had  been 
hanged  to  simulate  suicide ; but  this  time  the  affair  leaked 
out  through  the  doctor,  the  governor  was  dismissed,  and 
altogether  a better  tone  prevailed  in  the  prison.  I took 
away  from  Clairvaux  the  best  recollection  of  its  governor, 
and  altogether,  while  I was  there,  I more  than  once  thought 
that,  after  all,  men  are  often  better  than  the  institutions 
they  belong  to.  But,  having  no  personal  griefs,  I can  all 
the  more  freely  and  most  unconditionally  condemn  the  in- 
stitution itself  as  a survival  from  the  dark  past,  wrong  in 
its  principles,  and  a source  of  immeasurable  evils  to  society. 

One  thing  more  I must  mention,  as  it  struck  me  perhaps 
even  more  forcibly  than  the  demoralizing  effects  of  prisons 
upon  their  inmates.  What  a nest  of  infection  is  every  prison 
— and  even  every  law  court  — for  its  neighborhood,  for 
the  people  who  live  near  it ! Lombroso  has  made  much  of 
the  “ criminal  type  ” which  he  believes  he  has  discovered 
amongst  the  inmates  of  the  prisons.  If  he  had  made  the 
same  efforts  to  observe  the  people  who  hang  about  the 
law  courts,  — detectives,  spies,  petty  solicitors,  informers, 
people  preying  upon  the  simpletons,  and  the  like,  — he 
would  probably  have  concluded  that  his  criminal  type 
has  a far  greater  geographical  extension  than  the  prison 
walls.  I never  saw  such  a collection  of  faces  of  the  lowest 
human  type  as  I saw  around  and  within  the  Palais  de  Jus- 
tice at  Lyons,  — certainly  not  within  the  prison  walls  of 
Clairvaux.  Dickens  and  Cruikshank  have  immortalized  a 


470 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


few  of  these  types  ; but  they  represent  quite  a world  which 
revolves  about  the  law  courts  and  infuses  its  infection  far 
and  wide  around  them.  And  the  same  is  true  of  each  cen- 
tral prison,  like  Clairvaux.  It  is  an  atmosphere  of  petty 
thefts,  petty  swindlings,  spying  and  corruption  of  all  sorts, 
which  spreads  like  a blot  of  oil  round  the  prison. 

I saw  all  this  ; and  if  before  my  condemnation  I already 
knew  that  society  is  wrong  in  its  present  system  of  punish- 
ments, after  I left  Clairvaux  I knew  that  it  is  not  only 
wrong  and  unjust  in  this  system,  but  that  it  is  simply 
foolish  when,  in  its  partly  unconscious  and  partly  willful 
ignorance  of  realities,  it  maintains  at  its  own  expense  these 
universities  of  corruption,  under  the  illusion  that  they  are 
necessary  as  a bridle  to  the  criminal  instincts  of  man. 


XIV 


Eveky  revolutionist  meets  a number  of  spies  and  “ agents 
provocateurs  ” in  his  way,  and  I have  had  my  fair  share  of 
them.  All  governments  spend  considerable  sums  of  money  in 
maintaining  this  kind  of  reptile.  However,  they  are  mainly 
dangerous  to  young  people  only.  One  who  has  had  some 
experience  of  life  and  men  soon  discovers  that  there  is  about 
these  creatures  something  which  puts  him  on  his  guard. 
They  are  recruited  from  the  scum  of  society,  amongst  men 
of  the  lowest  moral  standard,  and  if  one  is  watchful  of  the 
moral  character  of  the  men  he  meets  with,  he  soon  notices 
something  in  the  manners  of  these  “ pillars  of  society  ” 
which  shocks  him,  and  then  he  asks  himself  the  question : 
“ What  has  brought  this  man  to  me  ? What  in  the  world 
can  he  have  in  common  with  us  ? ” In  most  cases  this 
simple  question  is  sufficient  to  put  one  on  his  guard. 

When  I first  came  to  Geneva,  the  agent  of  the  Russian 
government  who  had  been  commissioned  to  spy  upon  the 
refugees  was  well-known  to  all  of  us.  He  went  under  the 
title  of  Count ; but  as  he  had  no  footman  and  no  carriage 
on  which  to  emblazon  his  coronet  and  arms,  he  had  had 
them  embroidered  on  a sort  of  mantle  which  covered  his 
tiny  dog.  We  saw  him  occasionally  in  the  cafes,  with- 
out speaking  to  him ; he  was,  in  fact,  an  “ innocent  ” who 
simply  bought  in  the  kiosques  all  the  publications  of  the 
exiles,  very  probably  adding  to  them  such  comments  as  he 
thought  would  please  his  chiefs. 

Different  men  began  to  pour  in,  as  Geneva  began  to  fill 
up  with  refugees  of  the  young  generation  ; and  yet,  in  one 
way  or  another,  they  also  became  known  to  ua. 


472 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


When  a stranger  appeared  on  our  horizon,  he  was 
asked  with  the  usual  nihilist  frankness  about  his  past  and 
his  present  prospects,  and  it  soon  appeared  what  sort  of 
person  he  was.  Frankness  in  mutual  intercourse  is  alto 
gether  the  best  way  for  bringing  about  proper  relations  be 
tween  men.  In  this  case  it  was  invaluable.  Numbers  oi 
persons  whom  none  of  us  had  known  or  heard  of  in  Russia 
— absolute  strangers  to  the  circles  — came  to  Geneva,  and 
many  of  them,  a few  days  or  even  hours  after  their  arrival, 
stood  on  the  most  friendly  terms  with  the  colony  of  refu- 
gees ; but  in  some  way  or  other  the  spies  never  succeeded 
in  crossing  the  threshold  of  familiarity.  A spy  might  name 
common  acquaintances,  he  might  give  the  best  accounts, 
sometimes  correct,  of  his  past  in  Russia ; he  might  possess 
in  perfection  the  nihilist  slang  and  manners,  but  he  never 
could  assimilate  that  sort  of  nihilist  ethics  which  had  grown 
up  amongst  the  Russian  youth  ; and  this  alone  kept  him 
at  a distance  from  our  colony.  Spies  can  imitate  anything 
else  but  ethics. 

When  I was  working  with  Reclus,  there  was  at  Clarens 
one  such  individual,  from  whom  we  all  kept  aloof.  We 
knew  nothing  bad  about  him,  but  we  felt  that  he  was  not 
“ ours,”  and  as  he  tried  only  the  more  to  penetrate  into 
our  society,  we  became  suspicious  of  him.  I never  had 
said  a word  to  him,  and  consequently  he  especially  sought 
after  me.  Seeing  that  he  could  not  approach  me  through 
the  usual  channels,  he  began  to  write  me  letters,  giving  me 
mysterious  appointments  for  mysterious  purposes  in  the 
woods  and  in  similar  places.  For  fun,  I once  accepted  his 
invitation  and  went  to  the  spot,  with  a good  friend  follow- 
ing me  at  a distance  ; but  the  man,  who  probably  had  a 
confederate,  must  have  noticed  that  I was  not  alone,  and 
did  not  appear.  So  I was  spared  the  pleasure  of  ever  say- 
ing to  him  a single  word.  Besides,  I worked  at  that  time 
Bo  hard  that  every  minute  of  my  time  was  taken  up  either 


AN  AMUSING  REPORT  BY  A SPY 


473 


with  the  Geography  or  “ Le  Revolte,”  and  I entered  into  no 
conspiracies.  However,  we  learned  later  on  that  this  man 
used  to  send  to  the  Third  Section  detailed  reports  about 
the  supposed  conversations  which  he  had  had  with  me,  my 
supposed  confidences,  and  the  terrible  plots  which  I was 
manipulating  at  St.  Petersburg  against  the  Tsar’s  life  ! 
All  that  was  taken  for  ready  money  at  St.  Petersburg, 
and  in  Italy,  too.  When  Cafiero  was  arrested  one  day  in 
Switzerland,  he  was  shown  formidable  reports  of  Italian 
spies,  who  warned  their  government  that  Cafiero  and  I, 
loaded  with  bombs,  were  going  to  enter  Italy.  The  fact 
was  that  I never  was  in  Italy  and  never  had  had  any  inten- 
tion of  visiting  the  country. 

In  point  of  fact,  however,  the  spies  do  not  always  make 
up  reports  out  of  whole  cloth.  They  often  tell  things  that 
are  true,  but  all  depends  upon  the  way  a story  is  told.  We 
passed  some  most  merry  moments  about  a report  which 
was  addressed  to  the  French  government  by  a French  spy 
who  followed  my  wife  and  myself  as  we  were  traveling  in 
1881  from  Paris  to  London.  The  spy,  probably  playing  a 
double  part,  as  is  often  done,  had  sold  that  report  to  Roche- 
fort, who  published  it  in  his  paper.  Everything  that  the 
spy  had  stated  was  correct,  — but  the  way  he  had  told  it ! 

He  wrote,  for  instance:  “I  took  the  next  compartment 
to  the  one  that  Kropdtkin  had  taken  with  his  wife.”  Quite 
true  ; he  was  there.  We  noticed  him,  for  he  had  managed 
at  once  to  attract  our  attention  by  his  sullen,  unpleasant 
face.  “ They  spoke  Russian  all  the  time,  in  order  not  to 
be  understood  by  the  passengers.”  Very  true  again;  we 
spoke  Russian,  as  we  always  do.  “ When  they  came  to 
Calais,  they  both  took  a bouillon.”  Most  correct  again : 
we  took  a bouillon.  But  here  the  mysterious  part  of  the 
journey  begins.  “ After  that,  they  both  suddenly  disap- 
peared, and  I looked  for  them  in  vain,  on  the  platform  and 


474 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


elsewhere ; and  when  they  reappeared,  he  was  in  disguise, 
and  was  followed  by  a Russian  priest,  who  never  left  him 
after  that  until  they  arrived  in  London,  where  I lost  sight 
of  the  priest.”  All  that  was  true  again.  My  wife  had  a 
tooth  slightly  aching,  and  I asked  the  permission  of  the 
keeper  of  the  restaurant  to  go  to  his  private  room,  where 
my  wife  could  ease  her  tooth.  So  we  had  “ disappeared  ” 
indeed  ; and  as  we  had  to  cross  the  Channel,  I put  my  soft 
felt  hat  into  my  pocket  and  put  on  a fur  cap ; I was  “ in 
disguise.”  As  to  the  mysterious  priest,  he  was  also  there. 
He  was  not  a Russian,  but  that  is  irrelevant : he  wore  at  any 
rate  the  dress  of  the  Greek  priests.  I saw  him  standing  at 
the  counter  and  asking  something  which  no  one  understood. 
“ Agua,  agua,”  he  repeated,  in  a woeful  tone.  “ Give  the 
gentleman  a glass  of  water,”  I said  to  the  waiter.  Where- 
upon the  priest,  struck  by  my  wonderful  linguistic  capacities, 
began  to  thank  me  for  my  intervention  with  a truly  Eastern 
effusion.  My  wife  took  pity  on  him  and  spoke  to  him  in 
different  languages,  but  he  understood  none  of  them.  It  ap- 
peared at  last  that  he  knew  a few  words  in  one  of  the  South 
Slavonian  languages,  and  we  could  make  out : “ I am  a 
Greek ; Turkish  embassy,  London.”  We  told  him,  mostly 
by  signs,  that  we,  too,  were  going  to  London,  and  that  he 
might  travel  with  us. 

The  most  amusing  part  of  the  story  was  that  I really 
found  for  him  the  address  of  the  Turkish  embassy  even 
before  we  had  reached  Charing  Cross.  The  train  stopped 
at  some  station  on  the  way,  and  two  elegant  ladies  entered 
our  already  full  third-class  compartment.  Both  had  news- 
papers in  their  hands.  One  was  English,  and  the  other — 
a handsome  woman,  who  spoke  good  French  — pretended 
to  be  English.  After  exchanging  a few  words,  the  latter 
asked  me  a brule  pourjpoint : “ What  do  you  think  of 
Count  Igndtiefif?  ” and  immediately  after  that : “Are  you 
60on  going  to  kill  the  new  Tsar  ? ” I was  clear  as  to  het 


AN  AMUSING  REPORT  BY  A SPY 


475 


profession  from  these  two  questions,  but  thinking  of  my 
priest,  I said  to  her : “ Do  you  happen  to  know  the  address 
of  the  Turkish  embassy  ? ” “ Street  so  and  so,  number  so 

and  60,”  she  replied  without  hesitation,  like  a schoolgirl  in 
a class.  “ You  could,  I suppose,  also  give  the  address  of 
the  Russian  embassy  ? ” I asked  her,  and  the  address  hav- 
ing been  given  with  the  same  readiness,  I communicated 
both  to  the  priest.  When  we  reached  Charing  Cross,  the 
lady  was  so  obsequiously  anxious  to  attend  to  my  luggage, 
and  even  to  carry  a heavy  package  herself  with  her  gloved 
hands,  that  I finally  told  her,  much  to  her  surprise; 
“ Enough  of  this : ladies  don’t  carry  gentlemen’s  luggage. 
Go  away ! ” 

But  to  return  to  my  trustworthy  French  spy.  “He  alighted 
at  Charing  Cross,”  he  wrote  in  his  report,  “but  for  more 
than  half  an  hour  after  the  arrival  of  the  train  he  did  not 
leave  the  station,  until  he  had  ascertained  that  every  one  else 
had  left  it.  I kept  aloof  in  the  meantime,  concealing  myself 
behind  a pillar.  Having  ascertained  that  all  passengers  had 
left  the  platform,  they  both  suddenly  jumped  into  a cab.  I 
followed  them  nevertheless,  and  overheard  the  address  which 
the  cabman  gave  at  the  gate  to  the  policeman,  — 12,  Street 
So  and  So,  — and  ran  after  the  cab.  There  were  no  cabs 
in  the  neighborhood ; so  I ran  up  to  Trafalgar  Square, 
where  I got  one.  I then  drove  after  him,  and  he  alighted 
at  the  above  address.” 

Every  fact  of  it  is  true  again,  — the  address  and  every- 
thing ; but  how  mysterious  it  all  reads.  I had  warned  a 
Russian  friend  of  my  arrival,  but  there  was  a dense  fog 
that  morning,  and  he  overslept.  We  waited  for  him  half 
an  hour,  and  then,  leaving  our  luggage  in  the  cloak-room, 
drove  to  his  house. 

“ There  they  sat  till  two  o’clock  with  drawn  curtains,  and 
then  only  a tall  man  came  out  of  the  house,  and  returned 
one  hour  later  with  their  baggage,”  Even  the  remark  about 


476 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


the  curtains  was  correct ; we  had  to  light  the  gas  on  account 
of  the  fog,  and  drew  down  the  curtains  to  get  rid  of  the  ugly 
sight  of  a small  Islington  street  wrapped  in  a dense  fog. 

When  I was  working  with  Elisee  Reclus  at  Clarens,  I 
used  to  go  every  fortnight  to  Geneva  to  see  to  the  bringing 
out  of  “ Le  Revolte.”  One  day  when  I reached  our  print- 
ing-office, I was  told  that  a Russian  gentleman  wanted  to 
see  me.  He  had  already  seen  my  friends,  and  had  told 
them  that  he  came  to  induce  me  to  start  a paper,  like 
“ Le  Revolte,”  in  Russian.  He  offered  for  that  purpose  all 
the  money  that  might  be  required.  I went  to  meet  him  in 
a cafe,  where  he  gave  me  a German  name,  — Tohnlehm,  let 
us  say,  — and  told  me  that  he  was  a native  of  the  Baltic 
provinces.  He  boasted  of  possessing  a large  fortune  in  cer- 
tain estates  and  manufactures,  and  he  was  extremely  angry 
against  the  Russian  government  for  their  Russianizing 
schemes.  On  the  whole  he  produced  a somewhat  indeter- 
minate impression,  so  that  my  friends  insisted  upon  my 
accepting  his  offer;  but  I did  not  much  like  the  man  from 
first  sight. 

From  the  cafd  he  took  me  to  his  rooms  in  a hotel,  and 
there  he  began  to  show  less  reserve,  and  to  appear  more  like 
himself  and  still  more  unpleasant.  “ Don’t  doubt  my  for- 
tune,” he  said  to  me,  “ I have  also  a capital  invention. 
There ’s  a lot  of  money  in  it.  I shall  patent  it,  and  get  a 
considerable  sum  of  money  for  it,  — all  for  the  cause  of  the 
revolution  in  Russia.”  And  he  showed  me,  to  my  astonish- 
ment, a miserable  candlestick,  the  originality  of  which  was 
that  it  was  awfully  ugly  and  had  three  bits  of  wire  to  put 
the  candle  in.  The  poorest  housewife  would  not  have 
cared  for  such  a candlestick,  and  even  if  it  could  have  been 
patented,  no  manufacturer  would  have  paid  the  patentee 
more  than  ten  dollars.  “ A rich  man  placing  his  hopes  on 
such  a candlestick  ! This  man,”  I thought  to  myself,  “ can 
never  have  seen  better  ones,”  and  my  opinion  about  him 


SELF-BETRAYED  SPIES 


477 


was  made  up.  He  was  no  rich  man  at  all,  and  the  money 
he  offered  was  not  his  own.  So  I bluntly  told  him,  “ Very 
well,  if  you  are  so  anxious  to  have  a Russian  revolution- 
ary paper,  and  hold  the  flattering  opinion  about  myself 
that  you  have  expressed,  you  will  have  to  deposit  your 
money  in  my  name  at  a bank,  and  at  my  entire  disposal. 
But  I warn  you  that  you  will  have  absolutely  nothing  to 
do  with  the  paper.”  “ Of  course,  of  course,”  he  said,  “ but 
just  see  to  it,  and  sometimes  advise  you,  and  aid  you  in 
smuggling  it  into  Russia.”  “ No,  nothing  of  the  sort ! 
You  need  not  see  me  at  all.”  My  friends  thought  that  I 
was  too  hard  upon  the  man,  but  some  time  after  that  a let- 
ter was  received  from  St.  Petersburg  warning  us  that  we 
would  receive  the  visit  of  a spy  of  the  Third  Section, 
Tohnlehm  by  name.  The  candlestick  had  thus  rendered 
us  a good  service. 

Whether  by  candlesticks  or  something  else,  these  people 
almost  always  betray  themselves  in  one  way  or  another. 
When  we  were  at  London  in  1881,  we  received  on  a foggy 
morning  a visit  from  two  Russians.  I knew  one  of  them 
by  name ; the  other,  a young  man  whom  he  recommended 
as  his  friend,  was  a stranger.  The  latter  had  volunteered 
to  accompany  his  friend  on  a few  days’  visit  to  London.  As 
he  was  introduced  by  a friend,  I had  no  suspicions  what- 
ever about  him ; but  I was  very  busy  that  day  and  asked 
another  friend,  who  lived  near  by,  to  find  them  a room  and 
take  them  about  to  see  London.  My  wife  had  not  yet 
seen  England,  either,  and  she  went  with  them.  In  the 
afternoon  she  returned,  saying  to  me  : “ Do  you  know,  I dis- 
like that  man  very  much.  Beware  of  him.”  “ But  why  ? 
What ’s  the  matter  ? ” I asked.  “ Nothing,  absolutely  no- 
thing, but  he  is  surely  not  ‘ ours.’  By  the  way  he  treated 
the  waiter  in  a cafd,  and  the  way  he  handles  money,  I 
saw  at  once  he  is  not  ‘ ours,’  and  if  he  is  not,  why  should 


478 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


he  come  to  us  ? ” She  was  so  certain  of  the  justice  of  her 
suspicions  that  while  she  performed  her  duties  of  hospital- 
ity, she  nevertheless  managed  never  to  leave  that  young 
man  alone  in  my  study  even  for  one  minute.  We  had  a 
chat,  and  the  visitor  began  to  exhibit  himself  more  and 
more  under  such  a low  moral  aspect  that  even  his  friend 
blushed  for  him,  and  when  I asked  more  details  about  him, 
the  explanations  they  both  gave  were  still  less  satisfactory. 
We  were  both  on  our  guard.  In  short,  they  left  London 
in  a couple  of  days,  and  a fortnight  later  I got  a letter 
from  my  Russian  friend,  full  of  excuses  for  having  intro- 
duced the  young  man,  who,  they  had  found  out  at  Paris, 
was  a spy  in  the  service  of  the  Russian  embassy.  I looked 
then  into  a list  of  Russian  secret  service  agents  in  France 
and  Switzerland,  which  we  refugees  had  received  lately 
from  the  Executive  Committee,  — they  had  their  men 
everywhere  at  St.  Petersburg,  — and  I found  the  name  of 
that  young  man  on  the  list,  with  one  letter  only  altered 
in  it. 

To  start  a paper,  subsidized  by  the  police,  with  a police 
agent  at  its  head,  is  an  old  plan,  and  the  prefect  of  the 
Paris  police,  Andrieux,  resorted  to  it  in  1881.  I was  stay- 
ing with  Elisee  Reclus  in  the  mountains,  when  we  received 
a letter  from  a Frenchman,  or  rather  a Belgian,  who  an- 
nounced to  us  that  he  was  going  to  start  an  anarchist  paper 
at  Paris,  and  asked  our  collaboration.  The  letter,  full  of 
flatteries,  produced  upon  us  an  unfavorable  impression,  and 
Reclus  had,  moreover,  some  vague  recollection  of  having 
heard  the  name  of  the  writer  in  some  unfavorable  connec- 
tion. We  decided  to  refuse  collaboration,  and  I wrote  to  a 
Paris  friend  that  we  must  first  of  all  ascertain  whence 
the  money  came  with  which  the  paper  was  going  to  be 
started.  It  might  come  from  the  Orleanists,  — an  old  trick 
of  the  family,  — and  we  must  know  its  origin.  My  Paris 


A SPURIOUS  ANARCHIST  PAPER 


479 


friend,  with  a workman’s  straightforwardness,  read  that 
letter  at  a meeting  at  which  the  would-be  editor  of  the 
paper  was  present.  He  simulated  offense,  and  I had  to 
answer  several  letters  on  this  subject ; but  I stuck  to  my 
words : “ If  the  man  is  in  earnest,  he  must  show  us  the 
origin  of  the  money.” 

And  so  he  did  at  last.  Pressed  by  questions,  he  said 
that  the  money  came  from  his  aunt,  a rich  lady  of  anti- 
quated opinions,  who  yielded,  however,  to  his  fancy  of  hav- 
ing a paper,  and  had  parted  with  the  money.  The  lady  was 
not  in  France ; she  was  staying  at  London.  We  insisted 
nevertheless  upon  having  her  name  and  address,  and  our 
friend  Malatesta  volunteered  to  see  her.  He  went  with  an 
Italian  friend  who  was  connected  with  the  second-hand  trade 
in  furniture.  They  found  the  lady  occupying  a small  flat, 
and  while  Malatesta  spoke  to  her  and  was  more  and  more 
convinced  that  she  was  simply  playing  the  aunt’s  part  in  the 
comedy,  the  furniture  friend,  looking  round  at  the  chairs 
and  tables,  discovered  that  all  of  them  had  been  taken 
the  day  before  — probably  hired  — from  a second-hand 
furniture  dealer,  his  neighbor.  The  labels  of  the  dealer 
were  still  fastened  to  the  chairs  and  the  tables.  This  did 
not  prove  much,  but  naturally  reinforced  our  suspicions.  I 
absolutely  refused  to  have  anything  to  do  with  the  paper. 

The  paper  was  of  an  unheard-of  violence  ; burning,  assas- 
sination, dynamite  bombs,  — there  was  nothing  but  that  in 
it.  I met  the  man,  the  editor  of  the  paper,  when  I went  to 
the  London  congress,  and  the  moment  I saw  his  sullen  face 
and  heard  a bit  of  his  talk  and  caught  a glimpse  of  the  sort 
of  women  with  whom  he  always  went  about,  my  opinions 
concerning  him  were  settled.  At  the  congress,  during 
which  he  introduced  all  sorts  of  terrible  resolutions,  all 
present  kept  aloof  from  him ; and  when  he  insisted  upon 
having  the  addresses  of  all  anarchists  throughout  the  world, 
the  refusal  was  made  in  anything  but  a flattering  manner. 


480 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


To  make  a long  story  short,  he  was  unmasked  a couple 
of  months  later,  and  the  paper  was  stopped  forever  on  the 
very  next  day.  Then,  a couple  of  years  after  that,  the 
prefect  of  police,  Andrieux,  published  his  Memoirs,  and  in 
this  hook  he  told  all  about  the  paper  which  he  had  started, 
and  the  explosions  which  his  agents  had  organized  at  Paris, 
by  putting  sardine-boxes  filled  with  something  under  the 
statue  of  Thiers. 

One  can  imagine  the  quantities  of  money  all  these  things 
cost  the  French  and  other  nations. 

I might  write  several  chapters  on  this  subject,  but  I will 
mention  only  one  more  story,  of  two  adventurers  at  Clair- 
vaux. 

My  wife  stayed  In  the  only  inn  of  the  little  village 
which  has  grown  up  under  the  shadow  of  the  prison  wall. 
One  day  the  landlady  entered  her  room  with  a message 
from  two  gentlemen,  who  came  to  the  hotel  and  wanted  to 
see  my  wife.  The  landlady  interceded  with  all  her  elo- 
quence in  their  favor.  “ Oh,  I know  the  world,”  she  said, 
“ and  I assure  you,  madame,  that  they  are  the  most  correct 
gentlemen.  Nothing  could  be  more  comvieril-faut.  One 
of  them  gave  the  name  of  a German  officer.  He  is  surely 
a baron,  or  a ‘ milord,’  and  the  other  is  his  interpreter. 
They  know  you  perfectly  well.  The  baron  is  going  now 
to  Africa,  perhaps  never  to  return,  and  he  wants  to  see  you 
before  he  leaves.” 

My  wife  looked  at  the  visiting  card,  which  bore  “ A 
Madame  la  Principesse  Kropotkine.  Quand  h voir  ? ” and 
needed  no  more  commentaries  about  the  comme-il-faut  of 
the  two  gentlemen.  As  to  the  contents  of  the  message, 
they  were  even  worse  than  the  address.  Against  all  rules 
of  grammar  and  common  sense  the  “ baron  ” wrote  about  a 
mysterious  communication  which  he  had  to  make.  She  re- 
fused point  blank  to  receive  the  writer  and  his  interpreter. 


A FALSE  BARON 


481 


Thereupon  the  baron  wrote  to  my  wife  letter  upon  let- 
ter, which  she  returned  without  opening  them.  All  the 
village  soon  became  divided  into  two  parties,  — one  siding 
with  the  baron  and  led  by  the  landlady,  the  other  against 
him  and  headed,  as  a matter  of  fact,  by  the  landlady’s 
husband.  Quite  a romance  was  circulated.  The  baron  had 
known  my  wife  before  her  marriage.  He  had  danced  with 
her  many  times  at  the  Russian  embassy  in  Vienna.  He 
was  still  in  love  with  her,  but  she,  the  cruel  one,  refused 
even  to  allow  him  a glimpse  of  her  before  he  went  upon 
his  perilous  expedition. 

Then  came  the  mysterious  story  of  a boy,  whom  we  were 
said  to  conceal.  “ Where  is  their  boy  ? ” the  baron  wanted 
to  know.  “ They  have  a son,  six  years  old  by  this  time, 
— where  is  he  ? ” “ She  never  would  part  with  a boy  if 

she  had  one,”  the  one  party  said.  “ Yes,  they  have  one, 
but  they  conceal  him,”  the  other  party  maintained. 

For  us  two  this  contest  contained  a very  interesting 
revelation.  It  proved  to  us  that  my  letters  were  not  only 
read  by  the  prison  authorities,  but  that  their  contents  were 
made  known  to  the  Russian  embassy  as  well.  When  I was 
at  Lyons,  and  my  wife  had  gone  to  see  Elisee  Reclus  in 
Switzerland,  she  wrote  to  me  once  that  “ our  boy  ” was  get- 
ting on  very  well ; his  health  was  excellent,  and  they  all 
spent  a very  nice  evening  at  the  anniversary  of  his  fifth 
birthday.  I knew  that  she  meant  “ Le  Revolts,”  which  we 
often  used  to  name  in  conversations  “ our  gamin,”  — our 
naughty  boy.  But  now  that  these  gentlemen  were  inquir- 
ing about  “ our  gamin,”  and  even  designated  so  correctly 
his  age,  it  was  evident  that  the  letter  had  passed  through 
other  hands  than  those  of  the  governor.  It  was  well  to 
know  this. 

Nothing  escapes  the  attention  of  village-folk  in  the  coun- 
try, and  the  baron  soon  awakened  suspicions.  He  wrote  a 
new  letter  to  my  wife,  even  more  wordy  than  the  former 


482 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


ones.  Now  he  asked  her  pardon  for  having  tried  to  intro- 
duce himself  as  an  acquaintance.  He  owned  that  she  did 
not  know  him ; but  nevertheless  he  was  a well-wisher.  He 
had  a most  important  communication  to  make  to  her.  My 
life  was  in  danger,  and  he  wanted  to  warn  her.  The 
baron  and  his  secretary  took  an  outing  in  the  fields  to  read 
this  letter  together  and  to  consult  about  its  tenor,  — the 
forest-guard  following  them  at  a distance ; but  they  quar- 
reled about  it,  and  the  letter  was  torn  to  pieces  and  thrown 
on  the  ground.  The  forester  waited  till  they  were  out  of 
sight,  gathered  the  pieces,  connected  them,  and  read  the 
letter.  In  an  hour’s  time  the  village  knew  that  the  baron 
had  never  really  been  acquainted  with  my  wife ; the  ro- 
mance which  was  so  sentimentally  repeated  by  the  baron’s 
party  crumbled  to  pieces. 

“ Ah,  then  they  are  not  what  they  pretended  to  be,” 
the  brigadier  de  gendarmerie  concluded  in  his  turn  ; “ then 
they  must  be  German  spies  ; ” and  he  arrested  them. 

It  must  be  said  in  his  behalf  that  a German  spy  had 
really  been  at  Clairvaux  shortly  before.  In  time  of  war 
the  vast  buildings  of  the  prison  might  serve  as  depots  for 
provisions  or  barracks  for  the  army,  and  the  German  gen- 
eral staff  was  surely  interested  to  know  the  inner  capacity 
of  the  prison  buildings.  Accordingly  a jovial  traveling 
photographer  came  to  our  village,  made  friends  with  every 
one  by  photographing  all  of  them  for  nothing,  and  was  ad- 
mitted to  photograph  not  only  the  inside  of  the  prison 
yards,  but  also  the  dormitories.  Having  done  this,  he  trav- 
eled to  some  other  town  on  the  eastern  frontier,  and  was 
there  arrested  by  the  French  authorities,  as  a man  found 
in  possession  of  compromising  military  documents.  The 
brigadier,  fresh  from  the  impression  of  that  visit,  jumped 
to  the  conclusion  that  the  baron  and  his  secretary  were  also 
German  spies,  and  took  them  in  custody  to  the  little  town 
of  Bar-sur-Aube.  There  they  were  released  next  morning, 


EVIL  OF  THE  GOVERNMENT  SPY  SYSTEM 


483 


the  local  paper  stating  that  they  were  not  German  spies,  hut 
“ persons  commissioned  by  another  more  friendly  power.” 

Now  public  opinion  turned  entirely  against  the  baron 
and  his  secretary,  who  had  to  live  through  more  adventures. 
After  their  release  they  entered  a small  village  cafe,  and 
there  ventilated  their  griefs  in  German  in  a friendly  con- 
versation over  a bottle  of  wine.  “ You  were  stupid,  you 
were  a coward,”  the  self-styled  interpreter  said  to  the  self- 
styled  baron.  “ If  I had  been  in  your  place,  I would  have 
shot  that  examining  magistrate  with  this  revolver.  Let 
him  only  repeat  that  with  me,  — he  will  have  these  bullets 
in  his  head  ! ” And  so  on. 

A commercial  traveler  who  sat  quietly  in  a corner  of  the 
room  rushed  at  once  to  the  brigadier  to  report  the  conver- 
sation which  he  had  overheard.  The  brigadier  made  an 
official  report  immediately,  and  again  arrested  the  secretary, 
— a pharmacist  from  Strasburg.  He  was  taken  before  a 
police  court  at  the  same  town  of  Bar-sur-Aube,  and  got  a 
full  month’s  imprisonment  “ for  menaces  uttered  against  a 
magistrate  in  a public  place.”  After  that  the  baron  had 
more  adventures,  and  the  village  did  not  resume  its  usual 
quietness  till  after  the  departure  of  the  two  strangers. 

I have  here  related  only  a very  few  of  the  spy  stories 
that  I might  tell.  But  when  one  thinks  of  the  thousands 
of  villains  going  about  the  world  in  the  pay  of  all  govern- 
ments, — and  very  often  well  paid  for  their  villainies,  — of 
the  traps  they  lay  for  all  sorts  of  artless  people,  of  the  vast 
sums  of  money  thrown  away  in  the  maintenance  of  that 
army,  which  is  recruited  in  the  lowest  strata  of  society  and 
from  the  population  of  the  prisons,  of  the  corruption  of  all 
sorts  which  they  pour  into  society  at  large,  nay,  even  into 
families,  one  cannot  but  be  appalled  at  the  immensity  of 
the  evil  which  is  thus  done. 


XV 


Demands  for  our  release  were  continually  raised,  both 
in  the  press  and  in  the  Chamber  of  Deputies,  — the  more 
so  as  about  the  same  time  that  we  were  condemned  Louise 
Michel  was  condemned,  too,  for  robbery  ! Louise  Michel  — • 
who  always  gives  literally  her  last  shawl  or  cloak  to  the 
woman  who  is  in  need  of  it,  and  who  never  could  be  com- 
pelled, during  her  imprisonment,  to  have  better  food  than 
her  fellow  prisoners,  because  she  always  gave  them  what 
was  sent  to  her  — was  condemned,  together  with  another 
comrade,  Pouget,  to  nine  years’  imprisonment  for  highway 
robbery  ! That  sounded  too  bad  even  for  the  middle-class 
opportunists.  She  marched  one  day  at  the  head  of  a pro- 
cession of  the  unemployed,  and,  entering  a baker’s  shop, 
took  a few  loaves  from  it  and  distributed  them  to  the 
hungry  column  : this  was  her  robbery.  The  release  of  the 
anarchists  thus  became  a war-cry  against  the  government, 
and  in  the  autumn  of  1885  all  my  comrades  save  three  were 
set  at  liberty  by  a decree  of  President  Grevy.  Then  the 
outcry  in  behalf  of  Louise  Michel  and  myself  became  still 
louder.  However,  Alexander  III.  objected  to  it ; and  one 
day  the  prime  minister,  M.  Freycinet,  answering  an  inter- 
pellation in  the  Chamber,  said  that  “ diplomatic  difficulties 
, stood  in  the  way  of  Kropotkin’s  release.”  Strange  words  in 
the  mouth  of  the  prime  minister  of  an  independent  country; 
but  still  stranger  words  have  been  heard  since  in  connection 
with  that  ill-omened  alliance  of  France  with  imperial  Russia. 

In  the  middle  of  J anuary,  1886,  both  Louise  Michel  and 
Pouget,  as  well  as  the  four  of  us  who  were  still  at  Clain 
vaux,  were  set  free. 


ELIE  AND  ELISEE  RECLUS 


485 


My  release  meant  also  the  release  of  my  wife  from  her 
voluntary  imprisonment  in  the  little  village  at  the  prison 
gates,  which  began  to  tell  upon  her  health,  and  we  went 
to  Paris  to  stay  there  for  a few  weeks  with  our  friend, 
Elie  Eeclus,  — a writer  of  great  power  in  anthropology,  who 
is  often  mistaken  outside  France  for  his  younger  brother, 
the  geographer,  Elis4e.  A close  friendship  has  united  the 
two  brothers  from  early  youth.  When  the  time  came  for 
them  to  enter  a university,  they  went  together  from  a small 
country  place  in  the  valley  of  the  Gironde  to  Strasburg, 
making  the  journey  on  foot,  — accompanied,  like  true  wander- 
ing students,  by  their  dog ; and  when  they  stayed  at  some 
village,  it  was  the  dog  which  got  the  bowl  of  soup,  while 
the  two  brothers’  supper  very  often  consisted  only  of  bread 
with  a few  apples.  From  Strasburg  the  younger  brother 
went  to  Berlin,  whither  he  was  attracted  by  the  lectures  of 
the  great  Eitter.  Later  on,  in  the  forties,  they  were  both 
at  Paris.  Elie  Eeclus  became  a convinced  Fourierist,  and 
both  saw  in  the  republic  of  1848  the  coming  of  a new  era 
of  social  evolution.  Consequently,  after  Napoleon  III.’s 
coup  d’etat,  they  both  had  to  leave  France,  and  emigrated 
to  England.  When  the  amnesty  was  voted,  and  they  re- 
turned to  Paris,  Elie  edited  there  a Fourierist  cooperative 
paper,  which  circulated  widely  among  the  workers.  It  is 
not  generally  known,  but  may  be  interesting  to  note,  that 
Napoleon  III.,  who  played  the  part  of  a Caesar,  — interested, 
as  behooves  a Caesar,  in  the  conditions  of  the  working  classes, 
— used  to  send  one  of  his  aides-de-camp  to  the  printing- 
office  of  the  paper,  each  time  it  was  printed,  to  take  to  the 
Tuileries  the  first  sheet  issued  from  the  press.  He  was, 
later  on,  even  ready  to  patronize  the  International  Working- 
men’s Association,  on  the  condition  that  it  should  put  in 
one  of  its  reports  a few  words  of  confidence  in  the  great 
socialist  plans  of  the  Caesar ; and  he  ordered  its  prosecution 
when  the  Internationalists  refused  point  blank  to  do  any 
thing  of  the  sort. 


486 


MEMOIES  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


When  the  Commune  was  proclaimed,  both  brothers  heart* 
ily  joined  it,  and  Elie  accepted  the  post  of  keeper  of  the 
National  Library  and  the  Louvre  Museum  under  Yaillant. 
It  was,  to  a great  extent,  to  his  foresight  and  to  his  hard 
work  that  we  owe  the  preservation  of  the  invaluable  trea- 
sures of  human  knowledge  and  art  accumulated  in  these 
two  institutions,  during  the  bombardment  of  Paris  by  the 
armies  of  Thiers  and  the  subsequent  conflagration.  A pas- 
sionate lover  of  Greek  art,  and  profoundly  acquainted  with 
it,  he  had  had  all  the  most  precious  statues  and  vases  of 
the  Louvre  packed  and  placed  in  the  vaults,  while  the  great- 
est precautions  were  taken  to  store  in  a safe  place  the  most 
precious  books  of  the  National  Library,  and  to  protect 
the  building  from  the  conflagration  which  raged  round  it. 
His  wife,  a courageous  woman,  a worthy  companion  of  the 
philosopher,  followed  in  the  streets  by  her  two  little  boys, 
organized  in  the  meantime  in  her  own  quarter  of  the  town 
a system  of  feeding  the  people,  who  had  been  reduced  to 
sheer  destitution  during  the  second  siege.  In  the  last 
few  weeks  of  its  existence  the  Commune  finally  realized  that 
a supply  of  food  for  the  people,  who  were  deprived  of  the 
means  of  earning  it  for  themselves,  ought  to  have  been  the 
Commune’s  first  care,  and  volunteers  organized  the  relief. 
It  was  by  mere  accident  that  Elie  Eeclus,  who  had  kept 
to  his  post  till  the  last  moment,  escaped  being  shot  by  the 
Versailles  troops  ; and  a sentence  of  deportation  having 
been  pronounced  upon  him,  — for  having  dared  to  accept 
so  necessary  a service  under  the  Commune,  — he  went  with 
his  family  into  exile.  Now,  on  his  return  to  Paris,  he  had 
resumed  the  work  of  his  life,  ethnology.  "What  this  work 
is  may  be  judged  from  a few,  a very  few  chapters  of  it, 
published  in  book  form  under  the  titles  of  “Primitive 
Folk  ” and  “ The  Australians,”  as  well  as  from  the  history 
of  the  origin  of  religions,  which  forms  the  substance  of  his 
lectures  at  the  Ecole  des  Hautes  Etudes,  at  Brussels,  — a 


LOUISE  MICHEL 


487 


foundation  of  his  brother.  In  the  whole  range  of  ethnologi- 
cal literature  there  are  not  many  works  imbued  to  the  same 
extent  with  a thorough  and  sympathetic  understanding  of 
the  true  nature  of  primitive  man.  As  to  his  history  of  re- 
ligions (part  of  which  was  published  in  the  review  “ Societe 
Nouvelle,”  and  which  is  now  being  continued  in  its  succes- 
sor, “ Humanite  Nouvelle  ”),  it  is,  I venture  to  say,  the  best 
work  on  the  subject  that  has  yet  appeared ; undoubtedly 
superior  to  Herbert  Spencer’s  attempt  in  the  same  direction, 
because  Herbert  Spencer,  with  all  his  immense  intellect, 
does  not  possess  that  understanding  of  the  artless  and  sim- 
ple nature  of  the  primitive  man  which  Elie  Eeclus  pos- 
sesses to  a rare  perfection,  and  to  which  he  has  added  an 
extremely  wide  knowledge  of  a rather  neglected  branch  of 
folk-psychology,  — the  evolution  and  transformation  of  be- 
liefs. It  is  needless  to  speak  of  Elie  Eeclus’  infinite  good 
nature  and  modesty,  or  of  his  superior  intelligence  and  vast 
knowledge  of  all  subjects  relating  to  humanity ; it  is  all 
comprehended  in  his  style,  which  is  his  and  no  one  else’s. 
With  his  modesty,  his  calm  manner,  and  his  deep  philo- 
sophical insight,  he  is  the  type  of  the  Greek  philosopher 
of  antiquity.  In  a society  less  fond  of  patented  tuition 
and  of  piecemeal  instruction,  and  more  appreciative  of  the 
development  of  wide  humanitarian  conceptions,  he  would 
be  surrounded  by  flocks  of  pupils,  like  one  of  his  Greek 
prototypes. 

A very  animated  socialist  and  anarchist  movement  was 
going  on  at  Paris  while  we  stayed  there.  Louise  Michel 
lectured  every  night,  and  aroused  the  enthusiasm  of  her 
audiences,  whether  they  consisted  of  workingmen  or  were 
made  up  of  middle-class  people.  Her  already  great  popu- 
larity became  still  greater,  and  spread  even  amongst  the 
university  students,  who  might  hate  advanced  ideas,  but 
worshiped  in  her  the  ideal  woman.  While  I was  at  Paris  a 
riot,  caused  by  some  one  speaking  disrespectfully  of  Louise 


488 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


Michel  in  the  presence  of  students,  took  place  in  a caf4„ 
The  young  men  took  up  her  defense  and  made  a great 
uproar,  smashing  all  the  tables  and  glasses  in  the  cafe.  I 
also  lectured  once,  on  anarchism,  before  an  audience  of  sev- 
eral thousand  people,  and  left  Paris  immediately  after  that 
lecture,  before  the  government  could  obey  the  injunctions 
of  the  reactionary  and  pro-Russian  press,  •which  insisted 
upon  my  being  expelled  from  France. 

From  Paris  we  went  to  London,  where  I found  once  more 
my  two  old  friends,  Stepniak  and  Tchaykdvsky.  Life  in 
London  was  no  more  the  dull,  vegetating  existence  that  it 
had  been  for  me  four  years  before.  We  settled  in  a small 
cottage  at  Harrow.  We  cared  little  about  the  furniture 
of  the  cottage,  a good  part  of  which  I made  myself  with 
the  aid  of  Tchaykovsky,  — he  had  been  in  the  United 
States  and  had  learned  some  carpentering, — but  we  rejoiced 
immensely  at  having  a small  plot  of  heavy  Middlesex  clay 
in  our  garden.  My  wife  and  I went  with  much  enthusiasm 
into  gardening,  the  admirable  results  of  which  I had  before 
realized  after  having  made  acquaintance  with  the  writings 
of  Toubeau,  and  some  Paris  market-gardeners,  and  after  our 
own  experiment  in  the  prison  garden  at  Clairvaux.  As  for 
my  wife,  who  had  typhoid  fever  soon  after  we  settled  at 
Harrow,  the  work  in  the  garden  during  the  period  of  con- 
valescence was  more  completely  restorative  than  a stay  at 
the  very  best  sanatorium  would  have  been. 

Near  the  end  of  the  summer  a heavy  blow  fell  upon  me. 
I learned  that  my  brother  Alexander  was  no  longer  living. 

During  the  years  that  I had  been  abroad  before  my  im- 
prisonment in  France  we  had  never  corresponded  with  each 
other.  In  the  eyes  of  the  Russian  government,  to  love  a 
brother  who  is  persecuted  for  his  political  opinions  is  itself 
a sin.  To  maintain  relations  with  him  after  he  has  become 
a refugee  is  a crime.  A subject  of  the  Tsar  must  hate  all 


EXILE  OF  MY  BROTHER  ALEXANDER 


489 


the  rebels  against  the  supreme  ruler’s  authority,  — and 
Alexander  was  in  the  clutches  of  the  Russian  police.  I 
persistently  refused,  therefore,  to  write  to  him  or  to  any 
other  of  my  relatives.  After  the  Tsar  had  written  on  the 
petition  of  our  sister  Helene,  “Let  him  remain  there,” 
there  was  no  hope  of  a speedy  release  for  my  brother.  Two 
years  after  that  a committee  was  nominated  to  settle  terms 
for  those  who  had  been  exiled  to  Siberia  without  judgment, 
for  an  undetermined  time,  and  my  brother  got  five  years. 
That  made  seven,  with  the  two  which  he  had  already  been 
kept  there.  Then  a new  committee  was  nominated  under 
Ldris  MelikofF,  and  added  another  five  years.  My  brother 
was  thus  to  be  liberated  in  October,  1886.  That  made 
twelve  years  of  exile,  first  in  a tiny  town  of  East  Siberia, 
and  afterwards  at  Tomsk,  — that  is,  in  the  lowlands  of 
West  Siberia,  where  he  had  not  even  the  dry  and  healthy 
climate  of  the  high  prairies  further  east. 

When  I was  imprisoned  at  Clairvaux  he  wrote  to  me, 
and  we  exchanged  a few  letters.  He  wrote  that  though 
our  letters  would  be  read  by  the  Russian  police  in  Siberia, 
and  by  the  French  prison  authorities  in  France,  we  might 
as  well  write  to  each  other  even  under  this  double  super- 
vision. He  spoke  of  his  family  life,  of  his  three  children, 
whom  he  described  interestingly,  and  of  his  work.  He 
earnestly  advised  me  to  keep  a watchful  eye  upon  the  de- 
velopment of  science  in  Italy,  where  excellent  and  original 
researches  are  conducted,  but  remain  unknown  in  the  scien- 
tific world  until  they  have  been  exploited  in  Germany ; and 
he  gave  me  his  opinions  about  the  probable  progress  of  po- 
litical life  in  Russia.  He  did  not  believe  in  the  possibility 
with  us,  in  a near  future,  of  constitutional  rule  on  the  pat- 
tern of  the  West  European  parliaments ; but  he  looked  for- 
ward — and  found  it  quite  sufficient  for  the  moment  — to 
the  convocation  of  a sort  of  deliberative  National  Assembly 
(Zemskiy  Sobor  or  Mats  Generaux ).  It  would  not  make 


490 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


laws,  but  would  only  work  out  the  schemes  of  laws,  ta 
which  the  imperial  power  and  the  Council  of  State  would 
give  definitive  form  and  final  sanction. 

Above  all  he  wrote  to  me  about  his  scientific  work. 
He  had  always  had  a decided  leaning  towards  astronomy, 
and  when  we  were  at  St.  Petersburg  he  had  published  in 
Russian  an  excellent  summary  of  all  our  knowledge  of  the 
shooting  stars.  With  his  fine  critical  mind  he  soon  saw 
the  strong  or  the  weak  points  of  different  hypotheses ; and 
without  sufficient  knowledge  of  mathematics,  but  endowed 
with  a powerful  imagination,  he  succeeded  in  grasping 
the  results  of  the  most  intricate  mathematical  researches. 
Living  with  his  imagination  amongst  the  moving  celestial 
bodies,  he  realized  their  complex  movements  often  better 
than  some  mathematicians, — especially  the  pure  algebra- 
ists, — who  are  apt  to  lose  sight  of  the  realities  of  the  phy- 
sical world  and  see  nothing  but  their  own  formulae.  Our  St. 
Petersburg  astronomers  spoke  to  me  with  great  appreciation 
of  that  work  of  my  brother’s.  Row,  he  undertook  to  study 
the  structure  of  the  universe  ; to  analyze  the  data  and  the 
hypotheses  about  the  worlds  of  suns,  star-clusters,  and 
nebulae  in  the  infinite  space,  and  to  work  out  the  problems 
of  their  grouping,  their  life,  and  the  laws  of  their  evolu- 
tion and  decay.  The  Pulkova  astronomer,  Gylden,  spoke 
highly  of  this  new  work  of  Alexander’s,  and  introduced 
him  by  correspondence  to  Mr.  Holden  in  the  United 
States,  from  whom,  while  at  Washington  lately,  I had  the 
pleasure  of  hearing  an  appreciative  estimate  of  the  value  of 
these  researches.  Science  is  greatly  in  need,  from  time  to 
time,  of  such  scientific  speculations  of  a higher  standard, 
made  by  a scrupulously  laborious,  critical,  and,  at  the  same 
time,  imaginative  mind. 

But  in  a small  town  of  Siberia,  far  away  from  all  the 
libraries,  unable  to  follow  the  progress  of  science,  he  had 
only  succeeded  in  embodying  in  his  work  the  researches 


MY  BROTHER’S  SCIENTIFIC  WORK 


491 


which  had  been  made  up  to  the  date  of  his  exile.  Some 
capital  work  had  been  done  since.  He  knew  it,  hut  how 
could  he  get  access  to  the  necessary  books,  so  long  as  he  re- 
mained in  Siberia  ? The  approach  of  the  time  of  his  libera- 
tion did  not  inspire  him  with  hope  either.  He  knew  that 
he  would  not  be  allowed  to  stay  in  any  of  the  university 
towns  of  Russia,  or  of  Western  Europe,  but  that  his  exile 
to  Siberia  would  be  followed  by  a second  exile,  perhaps 
even  worse  than  the  first,  to  some  hamlet  of  Eastern  Russia. 

“A  despair  like  Faust’s  takes  hold  of  me  at  times,” 
he  wrote  to  me.  When  the  time  of  his  liberation  was 
at  hand,  he  sent  his  wife  and  children  to  Russia,  taking 
advantage  of  one  of  the  last  steamers  before  the  close  of 
navigation,  and,  on  a gloomy  night,  this  despair  put  an  end 
to  his  life. 

A dark  cloud  hung  upon  our  cottage  for  many  months,  — 
until  a flash  of  light  pierced  it,  when,  the  next  spring,  a 
tiny  being,  a girl  who  bears  my  brother’s  name,  came  into 
the  world,  and  with  her  helpless  cry  set  new  strings  vi- 
brating in  my  heart. 


XVI 


In  1886  the  socialist  movement  in  England  was  in  full 
swing.  Large  bodies  of  workers  had  openly  joined  it  in  all 
the  principal  towns,  as  well  as  a number  of  middle-class 
people,  chiefly  young,  who  helped  it  in  different  ways.  An 
acute  industrial  crisis  prevailed  that  year  in  most  trades,  and 
every  morning,  and  often  all  the  day  long,  I heard  groups 
of  workers  going  about  in  the  streets  singing  “ We ’ve  got 
no  work  to  do,”  or  some  hymn,  and  begging  for  bread. 
People  flocked  at  night  into  Trafalgar  Square,  to  sleep  there 
in  the  open  air,  in  the  wind  and  the  rain,  between  two 
newspapers  ; and  one  day  in  February  a crowd,  after  hav- 
ing listened  to  the  speeches  of  Burns,  Hyndman,  and 
Champion,  rushed  into  Piccadilly  and  broke  a few  windows 
in  the  great  shops.  Far  more  important,  however,  than 
this  outbreak  of  discontent  was  the  spirit  which  prevailed 
amongst  the  poorer  portion  of  the  working  population  in 
the  outskirts  of  London.  It  was  such  that  if  the  leaders 
of  the  movement,  who  were  prosecuted  for  the  riots,  had 
received  severe  sentences,  a spirit  of  hatred  and  revenge, 
hitherto  unknown  in  the  recent  history  of  the  labor  move- 
ment in  England,  but  the  symptoms  of  which  were  very  well 
marked  in  1886,  would  have  been  developed,  and  would 
have  impressed  its  stamp  upon  the  subsequent  movement 
for  a long  time  to  come.  However,  the  middle  classes 
seemed  to  have  realized  the  danger.  Considerable  sums 
of  money  were  immediately  subscribed  in  the  West  End 
for  the  relief  of  misery  in  the  East  End,  — certainly  quite 
inadequate  to  relieve  a widely  spread  destitution,  but  suf- 
ficient to  show,  at  least,  good  intentions.  As  to  the 


SOCIALISM  IN  ENGLAND 


493 


sentences  which  were  passed  upon  the  prosecuted  leaders, 
they  were  limited  to  two  or  three  months’  imprisonment. 

The  amount  of  interest  in  socialism  and  all  sorts  of 
schemes  of  reform  and  reconstruction  of  society  was  very 
great  among  all  classes  of  people.  Beginning  with  the  au- 
tumn and  throughout  all  the  winter  I was  asked  to  lecture 
all  over  the  country,  partly  on  prisons  but  mainly  on  anar- 
chist socialism,  and  I visited  in  this  way  nearly  every  large 
town  of  England  and  Scotland.  As  a rule  I accepted  the 
first  invitation  I received  for  entertainment  on  the  night  of 
the  lecture,  and  consequently  it  happened  that  I stayed  one 
night  in  a rich  man’s  mansion,  and  the  next  in  the  narrow 
quarters  of  a working  family.  Every  night  I saw  consid- 
erable numbers  of  people  of  all  classes;  and  whether  it 
was  in  the  worker’s  small  parlor,  or  in  the  reception-room  of 
the  wealthy,  the  most  animated  discussions  went  on  about 
socialism  and  anarchism  till  a late  hour,  — with  hope  in 
the  workman’s  house,  with  apprehension  in  the  mansion, 
but  everywhere  with  the  same  earnestness. 

In  the  mansion  the  main  questions  asked  were,  “ What 
do  the  socialists  want  ? What  do  they  intend  to  do  ? ” and 
next,  “What  are  the  concessions  which  it  is  absolutely 
necessary  to  make  at  some  given  moment  in  order  to  avoid 
serious  conflicts  ? ” In  our  conversations  I seldom  heard 
the  justice  of  the  socialist  contention  simply  denied,  or  de- 
scribed as  sheer  nonsense.  But  I found  a firm  conviction 
that  a revolution  was  impossible  in  England;  that  the 
claims  of  the  mass  of  the  workers  had  not  yet  reached  the 
precision  nor  the  extent  of  the  claims  of  the  socialists,  and 
that  the  workers  would  be  satisfied  with  much  less  ; so  that 
secondary  concessions,  amounting  to  a prospect  of  a slight 
increase  of  well-being  or  of  leisure,  would  be  accepted  by 
the  working  classes  of  England  as  a pledge,  in  the  mean- 
time, of  still  more  in  the  future.  “ We  are  a left-centre 
country  ; we  live  by  compromise,”  I was  once  told  by  an 


494 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


aged  member  of  Parliament  who  had  had  a wide  experience 
of  the  life  of  his  mother  country. 

In  workmen’s  dwellings,  too,  I noticed  a difference  in 
the  questions  which  were  addressed  to  me  in  England  from 
those  which  I was  asked  on  the  Continent.  General  prin- 
ciples, of  which  the  partial  applications  will  be  determined 
by  the  principles  themselves,  deeply  interest  the  Latin  work- 
ers. If  this  or  that  municipal  council  votes  funds  in  sup- 
port of  a strike,  or  provides  for  the  feeding  of  the  children  at 
the  schools,  no  importance  is  attached  to  such  steps.  They 
are  taken  as  a matter  of  fact.  “ Of  course  a hungry  child 
cannot  learn,”  a French  worker  says,  “ it  must  be  fed.” 
“ Of  course  the  employer  was  wrong  in  forcing  the  workers 
to  strike.”  That  is  all  that  is  said,  and  no  praise  is 
given  to  such  minor  concessions  by  the  present  individual- 
ist society  to  communist  principles.  The  thought  of  the 
worker  goes  beyond  the  period  of  such  concessions,  and  he 
asks  whether  it  is  the  commune  or  the  unions  of  workers, 
or  the  state  which  ought  to  undertake  the  organization  of 
production  ; whether  free  agreement  alone  will  be  sufficient 
to  maintain  society  in  working  order,  and  what  could 
be  the  moral  restraint  if  society  parted  with  its  present 
repressive  agencies  ; whether  an  elected  democratic  govern- 
ment would  be  capable  of  accomplishing  serious  changes 
in  the  socialist  direction,  and  whether  accomplished  facts 
ought  not  to  precede  legislation  ; and  so  on.  In  England,  it 
was  upon  a series  of  palliative  concessions,  gradually  grow- 
ing in  importance,  that  the  chief  weight  was  laid.  But  on 
the  other  hand  the  impossibility  of  state  administration  of  in- 
dustries seemed  to  have  been  settled  long  before  in  the  work- 
ers’ minds,  while  what  chiefly  interested  most  of  them  was 
matters  of  constructive  realization,  as  well  as  how  to  attain 
the  conditions  which  would  make  such  a realization  possible. 
“ Well,  Kropotkin,  suppose  that  to-morrow  we  were  to  take 


THE  MIDDLE  CLASSES  IN  ENGLAND 


495 


possession  of  the  docks  of  our  town.  What’s  your  idea 
about  how  to  manage  them  ? ” would  be  asked,  for  instance, 
as  soon  as  we  had  sat  down  in  a workingman’s  parlor. 
Or,  “ We  don’t  like  the  idea  of  state  management  of  rail- 
ways, and  the  present  management  by  private  companies 
is  organized  robbery.  But  suppose  the  workers  own  all  the 
railways.  How  could  the  working  of  them  be  organized  ? ” 
The  lack  of  general  ideas  was  thus  supplemented  by  a de- 
sire of  going  deeper  into  the  details  of  the  realities. 

Another  feature  of  the  movement  in  England  was  the 
considerable^  number  of  middle-class_  people  who  gave  it 
their  support  in  different  ways,  — some  of  them  frankly 
joining  it,  while  others  helped  it  from  the  outside.  In 
France  and  in  Switzerland  the  two  parties  — the  workers 
and  the  middle  classes  — stood  arrayed  against  each  other, 
sharply  separated  from  each  other.  So  it  was,  at  least,  in 
the  years  1876-85.  "When  I was  in  Switzerland  I could 
say  that  during  my  three  or  four  years’  stay  in  the  country 
I was  acquainted  with  none  but  workers.  I hardly  knew 
more  than  a couple  of  middle-class  men.  In  England  this 
would  have  been  impossible.  We  found  quite  a number  of 
middle-class  men  and  women  who  did  not  hesitate  to  appear 
openly,  both  in  London  and  in  the  provinces,  as  helpers  in 
organizing  socialist  meetings,  or  in  going  about  during  a 
strike  with  boxes  to  collect  coppers  in  the  parks.  Besides, 
we  saw  a movement  similar  to  what  we  had  had  in  Russia 
in  the  early  seventies,  when  our  youth  rushed  “ to  the 
people,”  though  by  no  means  so  intense,  so  full  of  self- 
sacrifice,  and  so  utterly  devoid  of  the  idea  of  “ charity.” 
Here  also,  in  England,  a considerable  number  of  people 
went  in  all  sorts  of  capacities  to  live  near  the  workers, 
in  the  slums,  in  people’s  palaces,  in  Toynbee  Hall,  and 
the  like.  It  must  be  said  that  there  was  a great  deal  of 
enthusiasm  at  that  time.  Many  probably  thought  that  a 


496 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


social  revolution  had  already  commenced.  As  always  hap- 
pens, however,  with  such  enthusiasts,  when  they  saw  that 
in  England,  as  everywhere,  there  was  a long,  tedious,  pre- 
paratory uphill  work  to  he  done,  very  many  of  them  re- 
tired from  active  work,  and  now  stand  outside  of  it  as  mere 
sympathetic  onlookers. 


XVII 


I TOOK  a lively  part  in  this  movement,  and  with  a few 
English  comrades  I started,  in  addition  to  the  three  so- ; 
cialist  papers  already  in  existence,  an  anarchist-communist 
monthly,  “ Freedom,”  which  continues  to  live  up  to  the 
present  hour.  At  the  same  time  I resumed  my  work  on 
anarchism  where  I had  had  to  interrupt  it  at  the  time  of 
my  arrest.  The  critical  part  of  it  was  published  by  Elisee 
Reclus,  during  my  Clairvaux  imprisonment,  under  the  title, 
“Paroles  d’un  Revolte.”  Now  I began  to  work  out  the 
constructive  part  of  an  anarchist-communist  society,  — so  far 
as  it  could  be  forecast,  — in  a series  of  articles  published 
at  Paris  in  “ La  Revolte.”  “ Our  boy,”  prosecuted  for 
anti-militarist  propaganda,  had  been  compelled  to  change  its 
title-page,  and  now  appeared  under  a feminine  name.  Later 
on  these  articles  were  published  in  a more  elaborate  form 
in  a book,  “ La  Conquete  du  Pain.” 

These  researches  caused  me  to  study  more  thoroughly 
certain  points  in  the  economic  life  of  the  civilized  nations  of 
to-day.  Most  socialists  had  hitherto  said  that  in  our  pre- 
sent civilized  societies  we  actually  produce  much  more  than 
is  necessary  for  guaranteeing  full  well-being  to  all  ; that  it 
was  only  the  distribution  which  was  defective ; and,  if  a 
social  revolution  took  place,  all  that  was  required  would  be 
for  every  one  to  return  to  his  factory  or  workshop,  — so- 
ciety taking  possession  for  itself  of  the  “ surplus  value,”  or 
benefits,  which  now  went  to  the  capitalist.  I thought,  on 
the  contrary,  that  under  the  present  conditions  of  private 
ownership  production  itself  had  taken  a wrong  turn,  and 
was  entirely  inadequate  even  as  regards  the  very  necessaries 


498 


MEMOIRS  OF  A.  REVOLUTIONIST 


of  life.  None  of  these  necessaries  are  produced  in  greater 
quantities  than  would  be  required  to  secure  well-being  for 
all ; and  the  over-production,  so  often  spoken  of,  means  no- 
thing but  that  the  masses  are  too  poor  to  buy  even  what  is 
now  considered  as  necessary  for  a decent  existence.  But 
in  all  civilized  countries  the  production,  both  agricultural 
and  industrial,  ought  to  and  easily  might  he  immensely 
increased,  so  as  to  secure  a reign  of  plenty  for  all.  This 
brought  me  to  consider  the  possibilities  of  modern  agricul- 
ture, as  well  as  those  of  an  education  which  would  give  to 
every  one  the  possibility  of  carrying  on  at  the  same  time  both 
enjoyable  manual  work  and  brain  work.  I developed  these 
ideas  in  a series  of  articles  in  the  “ Nineteenth  Century,” 
which  are  now  published  as  a book  under  the  title  of  “Fields, 
Factories,  and  Workshops.” 

Another  great  question  also  engrossed  my  attention.  It 
is  known  to  what  conclusions  Darwin’s  formula,  the  “ strug- 
gle for  existence,”  had  been  developed  by  his  followers  gen- 
erally, even  the  most  intelligent  of  them,  such  as  Huxley. 
There  is  no  infamy  in  civilized  society,  or  in  the  relations 
of  the  whites  towards  the  so-called  lower  races,  or  of  the 
strong  towards  the  weak,  which  would  not  have  found  its 
excuse  in  this  formula. 

Even  during  my  stay  at  Clairvaux  I saw  the  necessity 
of  completely  revising  the  formula  itself  and  its  applications 
to  human  affairs.  The  attempts  which  had  been  made  by 
a few  socialists  in  this  direction  did  not  satisfy  me,  hut  I 
found  in  a lecture  by  a Russian  zoologist,  Professor  Kessler, 
a true  expression  of  the  law  of  struggle  for  life.  “ Mutual 
aid,”  he  said  in  that  lecture,  “ is  as  much  a law  of  nature 
as  mutual  struggle  ; but  for  the  progressive  evolution  of  the 
species  the  former  is  far  more  important  than  the  latter.” 
These  few  words — confirmed  unfortunately  by  only  a 
couple  of  illustrations  (to  which  Syevertsoff,  the  zoologist 
of  whom  I have  spoken  in  an  earlier  chapter,  added  one  or 


MUTUAL  AID  A LAW  OF  NATURE 


499 


two  more)  — contained  for  me  the  key  of  the  whole  pro- 
blem. When  Huxley  published  in  1888  his  atrocious  article, 
“ The  Struggle  for  Existence ; a Program,”  I decided  to  put 
in  a readable  form  my  objections  to  his  way  of  understand- 
ing the  struggle  for  life,  among  animals  as  well  as  among 
men,  the  materials  for  which  I had  been  accumulating 
for  two  years.  I spoke  of  it  to  my  friends.  However, 
I found  that  the  interpretation  of  “ struggle  for  life  ” in 
the  sense  of  a war-cry  of  “ Woe  to  the  Weak,”  raised  to 
the  height  of  a commandment  of  nature  revealed  by  science, 
was  so  deeply  rooted  in  this  country  that  it  had  become 
almost  a matter  of  religion.  Two  persons  only  supported 
me  in  my  revolt  against  this  misinterpretation  of  the  facts 
of  nature.  The  editor  of  the  “ Nineteenth  Century,”  Mr. 
James  Knowles,  with  his  admirable  perspicacity,  at  once 
seized  the  gist  of  the  matter,  and  with  a truly  youthful 
energy  encouraged  me  to  take  it  in  hand.  The  other  sup- 
porter was  the  regretted  H.  W.  Bates,  whom  Darwin,  in  his 
“ Autobiography,”  described  as  one  of  the  most  intelligent 
men  he  ever  met.  He  was  secretary  of  the  Geographical 
Society,  and  I knew  him  ; so  I spoke  to  him  of  my  inten- 
tion. He  was  delighted  with  it.  “ Yes,  most  assuredly 
write  it,”  he  said.  “ That  is  true  Darwinism.  It  is  a 
shame  to  think  of  what  they  have  made  of  Darwin’s  ideas. 
Write  it,  and  when  you  have  published  it,  I will  write 
you  a letter  of  commendation  which  you  may  publish.”  I 
could  not  have  had  better  encouragement,  and  I began  the 
work,  which  was  published  in  the  “ Nineteenth  Century  ” 
under  the  titles  of  “ Mutual  Aid  among  Animals,”  “ Among 
Savages,”  “ Among  Barbarians,”  “ In  the  Mediaeval  City,” 
and  “ Amongst  Ourselves.”  Unfortunately  I neglected  to 
submit  to  Bates  the  first  two  articles  of  this  series,  dealing 
with  animals,  which  were  published  during  his  lifetime  ; I 
hoped  to  be  soon  ready  with  the  second  part  of  the  work, 
“ Mutual  Aid  among  Men  ; ” but  it  took  me  several  years 


500 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


to  complete  it,  and  in  the  meantime  Bates  passed  from 
among  us. 

The  researches  which  I had  to  make  during  these  studies, 
in  order  to  acquaint  myself  with  the  institutions  of  the 
barbarian  period  and  with  those  of  the  mediaeval  free  cities, 
led  me  to  another  important  research  : the  part  played  in 
history  by  the  state  during  its  latest  manifestation  in  Europe, 
in  the  last  three  centuries.  And  on  the  other  hand,  the 
study  of  the  mutual  support  institutions  at  different  stages 
of  civilization  led  me  to  examine  the  evolutionist  bases  of 
the  senses  of  justice  and  morality  in  man. 

Within  the  last  ten  years  the  growth  of  socialism  in  Eng- 
land has  taken  on  a new  aspect.  Those  who  judge  only 
by  the  numbers  of  socialist  and  anarchist  meetings  held  in 
the  country,  and  the  audiences  attracted  by  these  meetings, 
are  prone  to  conclude  that  socialist  propaganda  is  now  on 
the  decline.  And  those  who  judge  the  progress  of  it  by  the 
numbers  of  votes  that  are  given  to  those  who  claim  to  re- 
present socialism  in  Parliament  jump  to  the  conclusion  that 
there  is  now  hardly  any  socialist  work  going  on  in  Eng- 
land. But  the  depth  and  the  penetration  of  the  socialist 
ideas  can  nowhere  be  judged  by  the  numbers  of  votes  given 
in  favor  of  those  who  bring  more  or  less  socialism  into  their 
electoral  programmes.  Especially  is  this  the  case  in  Eng- 
land. The  fact  is,  that  of  the  three  systems  of  socialism 
which  were  formulated  by  Fourier,  Saint-Simon,  and  Rob- 
ert Owen,  it  is  the  last-named  which  prevails  in  England 
and  Scotland.  Consequently  it  is  not  so  much  by  the 
number  of  meetings  or  of  socialist  votes  that  the  intensity 
of  the  movement  must  be  judged,  but  by  the  infiltration  of 
the  socialist  point  of  view  into  the  trade-unionist,  the  co- 
operative, and  the  so-called  municipal  socialist  movements, 
as  well  as  the  general  infiltration  of  socialist  ideas  all  over 
the  country.  Under  this  aspect,  the  extent  to  which  the 


THE  WIDE  SPREAD  OF  SOCIALIST  IDEAS  501 


socialist  views  have  penetrated  is  immense  in  comparison 
with  what  it  was  in  1886 ; and  I do  not  hesitate  to  say 
that  it  is  simply  colossal  in  comparison  with  what  it  was  in 
the  years  1876-82.  And  I may  also  add  that  the  perse- 
vering endeavors  of  the  small  anarchist  groups  have  contrib- 
uted, to  an  extent  which  makes  us  feel  that  we  have  not 
wasted  our  time,  to  spread  the  ideas  of  no-government,  of 
the  rights  of  the  individual,  of  local  action  and  free  agree- 
ment, as  against  those  of  state  supremacy,  centralization, 
and  discipline,  which  were  dominant  twenty  years  ago. 

All  Europe  is  now  going  through  a very  had  phase  of 
the  development  of  the  military  spirit.  This  was  an  un- 
avoidable consequence  of  the  victory  obtained  by  the  Ger- 
man military  empire,  with  its  universal  military  service 
system,  over  France  in  1871,  and  it  was  already  then  fore- 
seen, and  foretold  by  many,  in  an  especially  impressive 
form  by  Bakunin.  But  the  counter-current  already  begins 
to  make  itself  felt  in  modern  life. 

Communist  ideas,  divested  of  their  monastic  form,  have 
penetrated  in  Europe  and  America  to  an  immense  extent 
during  the  twenty-seven  years  in  which  I have  taken  an  ac- 
tive part  in  the  socialist  movement  and'  could  observe  their 
growth.  When  I think  of  the  vague,  confused,  timid  ideas 
which  were  expressed  by  the  workers  at  the  first  congresses 
of  the  International  Workingmen’s  Association,  or  which 
were  current  at  Paris  during  the  Commune  insurrection, 
even  among  the  most  thoughtful  of  the  leaders,  and  com- 
pare them  with  those  which  have  been  arrived  at  to-day  by 
a vast  number  of  workers,  I must  say  that  they  seem  to  me 
to  belong  to  two  entirely  different  worlds. 

There  is  no  period  in  history  — with  the  exception, 
perhaps,  of  the  period  of  the  insurrections  in  the  twelfth 
and  thirteenth  centuries,  which  led  to  the  birth  of  the  me- 
diaeval Communes  — during  which  a similarly  deep  change 
has  taken  place  in  the  current  conceptions  of  society.  And 


502 


MEMOIRS  OF  A REVOLUTIONIST 


now,  in  my  fifty-seventh  year,  I am  even  more  deeply  con- 
vinced than  I was  twenty-five  years  ago  that  a chance  com- 
bination of  accidental  circumstances  may  bring  about  in 
Europe  a revolution  as  wide-spread  as  that  of  1848,  and 
far  more  important ; not  in  the  sense  of  mere  fighting  be- 
tween different  parties,  but  in  the  sense  of  a profound  and 
rapid  social  reconstruction  ; and  I am  convinced  that  what- 
ever character  such  a movement  may  take  in  different  coun- 
tries, there  will  be  displayed  everywhere  a far  deeper  com- 
prehension of  the  required  changes  than  has  ever  been 
displayed  within  the  last  six  centuries ; while  the  resistance 
which  the  movement  will  meet  in  the  privileged  classes 
will  hardly  have  the  character  of  obtuse  obstinacy  which 
made  the  revolutions  of  times  past  so  violent. 

To  obtain  this  great  result  is  well  worth  the  efforts  which 
eo  many  thousands  of  men  and  women  of  all  nations  and  all 
classes  have  made  within  the  last  thirty  years. 


INDEX 


INDEX 


Adlebbekg,  Count,  149. 

Agents,  government.  See  Spies. 

Agriculture,  in  Finland  and  other 
parts  of  Russia,  237-239. 

Aigle,  Switzerland,  437,  438. 

Aigiifi,  Manchuria,  206. 

Aksdkoff,  Ivdn,  131,  174. 

Albarracin,  a member  of  the  Jura 
Federation,  396,  396. 

Alexander  II.,  at  the  funeral  of  the 
Dowager-Empress,  111,  120 ; at- 
tends the  manoeuvres  of  the  mili- 
tary schools,  121-123;  takes  the 
first  steps  towards  the  abolition 
of  serfdom,  129,  130  ; hesitates  to 
proclaim  freedom,  130-132 ; issues 
manifesto  of  emancipation,  132- 
134 ; meets  with  popular  approval, 
134,  135 ; his  court  life,  141-144  ; 
his  relations  with  a certain  prin- 
cess, 144, 145  ; closely  watched  by 
the  police,  145,  146 ; his  moods, 
146  ; an  incident  at  a parade  of 
the  garrison,  146,  147  ; his  char- 
acter, 148-151 ; his  policy  becom- 
ing reactionary,  148-151  ; 152  ; 
surrenders  to  the  reactionaries, 
163, 164  ; his  address  to  the  newly 
promoted  officers,  165,  166 ; his 
talk  with  Kropdtkin  before  the 
latter’s  departure  for  Siberia, 
166,  167 ; his  betrayal  of  the 
reform  movement,  183 ; retains 
Dmitri  Mildtin  as  minister  of 
war,  242  ; a tool  of  Shuvdloff  and 
Trdpoff,  242, 243 ; as  a bear  hunt- 
er, 243,  244 ; his  courage,  coward- 
ice, brutality,  and  cruelty,  244  ; 
official  corruption  under,  245, 
246 ; restriction  of  education 
under,  247,  248  ; shot  at  by  Kara- 
kdzoff,  253,  254 ; 260,  261,  310 ; 
protected  by  the  very  men  whom 
he  afterwards  exiled,  315,  316  ; 
344,  349  : refuses  to  liberate  Alex- 
ander Kropdtkin,  357  ; 376,  377 ; 
increases  the  sentences  of  social- 
ists, 415 ; adopts  severe  measures 
against  the  revolutionary  move- 


ment, 427-429  ; his  relations  with 
Dmitri  Kropdtkin,  428  ; his  cour- 
age and  cowardice  again,  429 ; 
his  relations  with  Princess  Yu- 
rievski-Dolgonlki  and  the  Em- 
press, 430 ; alarmed  by  an  attempt 
to  blow  up  the  Winter  Palace  he 
creates  a sort  of  dictatorship, 
which  he  soon  abolishes,  430; 
wavers  between  constitutionalism 
and  absolutism,  431 ; decides  to 
convoke  a deliberative  assembly, 
431  ; his  assassination,  431,  432 ; 
the  tragedy  of  his  life,  432,  433. 

Alexander  III.,  a true  descendant 
of  Paul  I.,  152,  153;  his  lack  of 
education,  152,  153  ; his  haughti- 
ness and  impetuosity,  153;  246, 
413 ; fears  assassination  on  his 
accession,  434  ; organizations  for 
the  protection  of,  434,  435 ; at 
first  willing  to  convoke  a National 
Assembly,  he  finally  resolves  to 
remain  absolute  ruler,  436 ; an 
arrangement  to  protect  him 
until  after  his  coronation,  445, 
446 ; objects  to  Kropotkin’s  re- 
lease from  Clairvaux,  484. 

Amdr,  the  river,  184-186 ; barge 
navigation  on,  186-189,  191-193; 
scenery  on,  189 ; a post  boat  jour- 
ney on,  189,  190  ; floods  and  high 
seas  in  the  rainy  season,  190,  191 ; 
a typhoon  on,  191  ; a perilous 
journey  on,  192,  193 ; a steamer 
on,  193,  194  ; 206,  208. 

Amdr  region,  the,  annexation  to 
Russia,  184  ; settlement  of,  184- 
186.  See  Manchuria,  Siberia, 
Transbaikalia. 

Anarchism,  the  first  spark  of,  282 ; 
the  aim  of  the  Jura  Federation, 
287;  gaining  headway  in  Western 
Europe,  378 ; its  presence  saves 
Europe  from  a period  of  reaction, 
387-390 ; the  red  flag,  397,  398 ; 
the  ideal  society  under,  398,  399 ; 
a long  struggle  necessary  to  bring 
about  the  change,  399,  400 ; asscr 


506 


INDEX 


ciated  but  entirely  free  effort 
necessary,  400-402  ; a part  of  a 
philosophy  to  be  treated  by  the 
same  methods  as  the  natural 
sciences,  403 ; in  France  (1881- 
82),  447 ; manifestations  during 
the  panic  at  Lyons,  448,  449  ; trial 
of  Lyons  anarchists,  451,  452,  454, 
455 ; an  animated  movement  in 
Paris  in  1886,  487,  488  ; results  of 
anarchist  work  in  England,  501. 
See  Circle  of  Tchaykdvsky,  Com- 
munism, Jura  Federation,  Nihil- 
ism, Revolution,  Revolutionary 
movements  in  Russia,  Socialism, 
“To  the  people.” 

Andrei,  the  Kropdtkin  cook,  42. 

Andrfei,  the  Kropdtkin  tailor,  21, 
29,  53,  54,  56. 

Andrieux,  M.,  sometime  prefect  of 
Paris  police,  436,  444  ; his  spuri- 
ous anarchist  paper,  478-480. 

AnichkofF  Palace,  the,  434. 

Annenkoff,  General,  chief  of  police, 
159,  160. 

Aprdxin  Dvor,  the,  157. 

Argiiil,  the  river,  194,  199,  208. 

Armfeld,  Nathalie,  266. 

Avant-Garde , suppression  of  the, 
417. 

Baikdl,  Lake,  218-220. 

Bakiinin,  Mikhael,  169,  287 ; his  in- 
fluence in  the  anarchistic  move- 
ment, 288,  289 ; his  imprison- 
ment, 343,  344  ; 386 ; excluded 
from  the  International  Working- 
men’s  Association,  387  ; his  death, 
387 ; 390,  402,  501. 

Barbot-de-Mamy,  333. 

Barge  navigation  on  the  Amdr  and 
its  tributaries,  186-189,  191-193. 

Bastian,  Adolph,  217. 

Bates,  Henry  Walter,  499. 

Bavdri,  135. 

Becker,  Herr,  librarian  of  the  im- 
perial library  of  Russia,  84-86, 
113. 

Belgium,  the  International  Work- 
ingmen’s Association  in,  274,  281, 
287. 

Bern,  the  red  flag  at,  397. 

Bernard,  anarchist,  454. 

Blagovdschensk,  Siberia,  190,  191, 

206. 

Blanqui,  406,  460. 

Bogohiboff,  415. 

Bosio,  Angiolina,  119. 

Boulanger,  General,  447. 


Boy  of  the  Commune,  heroism  of 

a,  285. 

Brousse,  Paul,  393  ; his  aiTest  and 
imprisonment,  417 ; his  paper 
the  Avant-Garde  suppressed, 
417  ; expelled  from  Switzerland, 
417. 

Biirman,  Madame,  6,  7,  12, 15. 

Buxhovden,  Captain,  201. 

Cafiero,  personality  of,  394  ; 473. 

Catherine,  Grand  Duchess,  cousin 
of  Alexander  II.,  431. 

Celfnski,  a Polish  insurgent,  222. 

Censorship  of  the  press  in  Russia, 
66,  67. 

Chatelard,  the  castle  of,  424. 

Cherkdssky,  Prince,  177,  179. 

Chernydeff,  Colonel,  209. 

Chernyshdvsky,  131 ; his  arrest  and 
imprisonment,  196,  197  ; 242,  249 ; 
his  novel  What  is  to  be  Done  ? 301 ; 
transferred  from  Siberia  to  Astra- 
khan, where  he  dies,  445. 

Chinese  functionary,  an  old,  203, 
205,  206. 

Chinese  in  Manchuria,  the,  211. 

Chitd,  Transbaikdlia,  170 ; munici- 
pal self-government  in,  171 ; how 
it  got  its  watchtower,  182,  183 ; 
186,  201,  215,  218,  219. 

Circle  of  Tehaykdvsky,  the,  organ- 
ization of,  304  ; originally  formed 
for  purposes  of  self-improvement, 
304 ; growth  of,  305 ; engages  in 
the  spread  of  books  among  stu- 
dents, 305 ; becomes  a centre  of 
socialist  propaganda  and  estab- 
lishes relations  with  the  working- 
people,  305-308 ; membership  of, 
306  ; 310  ; its  inner  harmony,  317  ; 
its  place  of  meeting,  317 ; its 
female  members,  317-319 ; its 
meetings,  325 ; arrest  of  most  of 
its  members,  330-332 ; methods 
used  for  continuing  its  work,  332. 
See  Nihilism,  Socialism,  “ To  the 
people.” 

Clairvaux,  the  prison  of,  its  history, 
458  ; the  author’s  confinement  in, 
459-470 ; internal  economy  of, 
459-461  ; its  surroundings,  461, 
462  ; has  the  aspect  of  a manufac- 
turing town,  462 ; one  of  the  best 
penal  institutions  in  Europe,  462 ; 
aged  prisoners  in,  463,  464  ; com- 
munication among  the  prisoners, 
464-466  ; administration  of.  469. 

Clare  ns,  (Switzerland,  the  author 


INDEX 


507 


settles  at,  424;  a spy  at,  472, 

473. 

Collectivism,  447. 

Communal  effort,  necessity  of,  215- 
217. 

Commune,  the  Paris,  refugees  of, 
25:3-285 ; 392,  393 ; an  outbreak 
■with  insufficiently  determined 
ideals,  291,  400,  401 ; Lefran§ais’s 
hook  on,  393 ; the  treasures  of 
the  National  Library  and  the 
Louvre  during,  486 ; relief  of  the 
poor  during,  486. 

Communism,  attitude  of  the  French 
mind  towards,  447  ; spread  of  the 
idea  in  Europe  and  America,  501. 
See  Anarchism,  Socialism. 

Compositor,  a Russian,  422. 

Conquete  du  Pain,  La,  497. 

Constantine,  Grand  Duke,  129,  148, 
149, 151,  152,  163  ; insinuation  of 
KatkOff  against,  254. 

Constitutionalism  in  Russia,  313, 
314 ; Alexander  II.  and,  431  ; 
Alexander  III.  and,  436 ; 489. 
See  Liberal  movement  in  Russia, 
the. 

Corps  of  pages,  the,  Kropdtkin 
enters,  70j  71 ; its  organization, 
71, 72  ; its  inner  life  changed  after 
the  death  of  Nicholas  I.,  73;  the 
master  and  the  pupils,  73-82  ; de- 
velopment of  the  new  spirit,  82  ; 
education  in,  83-93,  113-118 ; the 
new  master,  108  ; assists  in  the 
funeral  ceremonies  of  the  Dowa- 
ger-Empress, 109-111 ; a frolic, 
111,  112  ; military  manoeuvres  of, 
121-123 ; field  work  of,  123-125 ; 
duties  of  pages,  140-144 ; final 
promotion  of  members  as  officers, 
154-156,  165, 166 ; in  the  great  fire 
of  1862, 157-161. 

Corruption  in  the  official  life  of  St. 
Petersburg,  245,  246. 

Cossacks,  Transbaikdlian,  their  or- 
ganization and  settlement  in  the 
Amiir  region,  185,  186 ; their  in- 
quisitiveness, 200-202 ; on  the 
Usurf,  213. 

Cossacks,  Usurf,  213. 

Costa,  406 ; arrest  and  imprison- 
ment of,  407. 

Court  life,  141-144. 

Courts  of  law,  nests  of  moral  in- 
fection, 469. 

Cowen,  Joseph,  437. 

Cracow,  Poland,  293-295. 

Crimean  war,  the,  63-65. 


Darwin,  Charles,  his  Origin  of 
Species,  97,  98,  115  ; his  formula, 
the  “struggle  for  existence,”  498, 
499. 

Deldeluze,  284. 

Discipline,  of  no  value  in  real  life, 
216,  217. 

Dolgoniki.  See  Yurievski-Dolgo- 
ruki,  Princess. 

Dolgdsliin  circle,  the,  425. 

Don  Quixote,  Turgdeneff  on,  412. 

Dowager-Empress,  widow  of  Nicho- 
las I.,  funeral  of,  109-112. 

Dukhobdrtsy,  the  semi-commu- 
nistic organization  of  the,  216, 
313. 

Dumartheray,  associated  with  Kro- 
pdtkin  and  Herzig  in  starting 
Le  Revolts,  417 ; personality  of, 
419 ; his  work  on  the  paper,  420 ; 
suggests  the  purchase  of  a print- 
ing-plant for  Le  Rivolte,  421 ; 
puts  all  his  energy  into  the 
paper,  421,  422. 

Easter  in  Russia,  33-35. 

Ebert,  writing-teacher  at  the  school 
of  pages,  89,  90. 

Economy  and  extravagance  in  Rus- 
sian life,  31-33. 

Education  in  Russia,  revival  of  in- 
terest in,  83 ; influences  of  the 
priesthood  on,  247 ; its  restric- 
tion in  the  seventies,  247,  248 ; 
movement  for  the  higher  educa- 
tion of  women,  258-263.  See  “ To 
the  people.” 

Elssler,  Fanny,  20. 

Emelidnoff , runs  to  the  help  of  the 
wounded  Tsar,  432. 

Empress.  See  Dowager-Empress 
and  Marie  Alexdndrovna. 

Encyclopcedia  Britannica,  Kropdt- 
kin  contributes  to,  444,  459. 

Engels,  281,  386. 

England,  socialism  in,  274,  440-442, 
492-497,  500,  501 ;“  a left-centre 
country,”  493. 

Equerries’  Quarter,  Old.  See  Old 
Equerries’  Quarter. 

Erekmann-Chatrian’s  Histoire  d'un 
Paysan,  327. 

Executive  Committee,  the,  declares 
war  against  absolutism,  429; 
makes  a daring  attempt  to  blow 
up  the  Winter  Palace,  430;  a 
new  plot  of,  431 ; enters  into  an 
agreement  with  Igndtieff,  445, 
446. 


508 


INDEX 


Extravagance  and  economy  in  Rus- 
sian life,  31-33. 

Fair,  a Russian  country,  102-104. 

Fddchenko,  zoologist,  230. 

Fddchenko,  Olga,  230. 

Ferrd,  a Blanquist,  396. 

Fields , Factories,  and  Workshops, 
498. 

Filka,  bandy-legged,  57. 

Finland,  Kropotkin’s  exploration 
of  the  glacial  deposits  in,  234, 
235  ; condition  of  the  peasants  in, 
237  238 

Fire  of  1862  in  St.  Petersburg,  the 
great,  157-164. 

Flaubert,  Gustave,  409,  410. 

Fleury,  General,  243. 

Fortress  of  St.  Peter  and  St.  Paul, 
the,  the  author’s  confinement  in, 
341-363 ; its  terrible  history,  343, 
344 ; the  author’s  cell  in,  344, 
345  ; routine  of  life  in,  352,  353. 

Fourierism,  405. 

France,  proposed  restoration  of  the 
Bourbon  monarchy  prevented 
by  the  socialists,  387,  388 ; sup- 
pression of  revolutionary  papers 
and  of  the  “Marseillaise,”  389; 
rapid  quiet  development  of  ideas 
in,  406  ; circulation  of  Le  Rtvolti 
in,  423,  447 ; development  of  the 
anarchist  movement  in,  447 ; ef- 
fect of  the  Lyons  trial  on  the 
anarchist  movement  in,  454 ; pris- 
ons in,  456-470 ; her  alliance  with 
Russia,  484 ; attitude  of  the  mid- 
dle classes  towards  socialism, 
495. 

Franz  Josef  Land,  233. 

Freedom,  an  anarchist-communist 
monthly,  497. 

Frol,  the  Kropdtkin  major-domo, 
10,  11,  15,  39,  40,  50,  99,  100. 

Functionary,  an  old  Chinese,  203, 
205,  206. 

Gagdrin,  Prince,  24. 

Gagdrin,  Princess,  9. 

Gamaldya,  Mademoiselle,  111. 

Ganz,  drawing-teacher  at  the  school 
of  pages,  90-93. 

Gatchina,  the  palace  at,  434. 

Gautier,  Emile,  449,  454,  460. 

Geneva,  a centre  of  the  international 
socialist  movement,  276  ; Kropdt- 
kin  in,  276-280 ; work  of  the  In- 
ternational Workingmen’s  As- 
sociation in,  276-280. 


Geographers,  some  Russian,  228- 

231. 

Geographical  Society.  See  Russian 
Geographical  Society. 

George,  Henry,  his  Progress  and 
Poverty,  440. 

Germany,  the  face  of  the  country 
contrasted  with  Russia,  268 ; so- 
cialism in,  274 ; beginnings  of  the 
Social  Democracy  in,  385  ; hostil- 
ity to  the  revolutionary  spirit  in, 
389. 

Ghent,  international  socialist  con- 
gress at,  404,  405. 

Ghirfn,  Manchuria,  208,  210. 

Girardot,  Colonel,  his  personality, 
73-75 ; his  system  of  discipline 
in  the  school  of  pages,  75-79 ; 
his  dislike  of  Kropdtkin,  79,  80 ; 
loss  of  influence,  81,  82  ; dis- 
missal, 82. 

Glacial  period,  the,  239,  333 ; the 
author’s  book  on,  349-351,  365. 

Gdgol,  67. 

Gonehardff,  liis  Precipice,  300. 

Gosse,  L.  L.,  159. 

Grand  dukes,  private  life  of  the, 
144,  145,  246. 

Grigdrieff,  Peter,  139. 

Grinevetsky,  kills  Alexander  H. 
and  himself,  432. 

Gruber,  Dr.,  259. 

Guesde,  Jules,  406. 

Guillaume,  James,  beginning  of  the 
author’s  friendship  with,  282, 
283  ; 288,  382  ; excluded  from  the 
International  Workingmen’s  As- 
sociation, 387 ; his  personality, 
391 ; 396,  405  ; compelled  to  leave 
Switzerland  and  return  to  France, 
417. 

Gukdvskaya,  Miss,  426. 

Hamlet,  Turgudneff  on,  412. 

Harrow,  England,  488. 

Hdldne  Pdvlovna,  Grand  Duchess, 
129,  151,  431. 

Helmersen,  General,  234. 

Hdrzen,  Alexander,  his  review 
The  Polar  Star,  127,  131 ; 129 ; 
his  article  Thou  hast  conquered, 
Galilean,  130  ; his  Bell,  131,  408  ; 
135,  151. 

Herzig,  starts  Le  Rtvolti  withKro- 
pdtkin  and  Dumartheray,  417 ; 
his  personality,  419,  420  ; 421. 

Hoedel,  his  attempt  upon  the  Ger- 
man Emperor’s  life,  416. 

Holy  League,  the,  435,  438. 


INDEX  509 


Hospital,  the  military,  365-367. 

Hugo,  Victor,  460. 

Huxley,  Thomas  Henry,  498,  499.  > 

Hyndman,  Henry  Mayers,  441 ; his 
England  for  All , 442  ; starts  his 
socialist  paper  Justice , 442  ; 492. 

Hyndman,  Mrs.  Henry  Mayers,  441. 

Igndtieff,  Count  Nikoldi  Pdvlovich, 
146,  197 ; said  to  have  frustrated 
a scheme  to  compel  Alexander 
III.  to  sign  a constitutional  mani- 
festo, 435 ; appointed  prime 
minister,  436 ; 443  ; sends  agents 
into  Switzerland  to  sow  dissension 
among  refugees,  444,  445  ; makes 
a compromise  with  the  Executive 
Committee,  445,  446. 

Imprimerie  Jurassienne,  421,  422. 

In  Russian  and  French  Prisons, 
466. 

Ingodd,  the  river,  208. 

Inn,  a “ white,”  106,  107. 

Innocentus,  bishop  of  the  Amiir, 

1.86. 

International  Workingmen’s  As- 
sociation, the,  origin  of,  269-271  ; 
importance  of  the  congresses  of, 
272,  273 ; its  work  in  various 
countries,  273,  274 ; Kropdtkin 
joins,  274,  275 ; enthusiasm  in 
Geneva  for,  276-278 ; elevating 
influence  of,  277 ; political  wire- 
pulling by  leaders  of,  279,  280; 
essentially  a workingmen’s  move- 
ment, 281 ; development  of  an  in- 
ternal governing  body  followed 
by  the  opposition  of  the  Jura 
Federation,  281,  282 ; its  origi- 
nal aim,  384 ; divides  into  two 
factions,  385,  386 ; its  method 
of  solving  the  problems  of  socio- 
logy by  appealing  to  the  work- 
ers themselves,  402,  403  ; 404  ; 
wrongly  accused  of  conspiracy 
against  the  lives  of  European 
sovereigns,  416,  417  ; collectivism 
preached  in,  447  ; the  French  law 
against  ex-members  of,  451,  452. 
See  Jura  Federation. 

Irkritsk,  Siberia,  169,  194,  198,  212, 
217  ; winter  amusements  at,  220, 
221  ; 222,  223  ; some  society  girls 
of,  29!). 

Ishdtin,  253. 

Italy,  work  of  the  International 
Workingmen’s  Association  in, 
273 ; effect  of  the  presence  of 
socialists  upon  the  actions  of  the 


monarchy,  388 ; scientific  re* 
searches  in,  489. 

Ivdnoff,  soldier  servant  of  the 
author,  133. 

Ivdnoff,  Vasily,  104,  136. 

Jallot,  a Blanquist,  396. 

Jews,  smuggling,  293-295. 

Joukdvsky,  Nicholas,  280;  person- 
ality of,  395. 

Jura  Federation,  the,  a rebel 
against  the  authority  of  the 
general  council  of  the  Interna- 
tional Workingmen’s  Associa- 
tion, 281,  282  ; personnel  and  or- 
ganization of,  282-287  ; the  author 
joins,  383 ; excluded  from  the  In- 
ternational, 387 ; the  centre  of 
anarchistic  work  in  Europe,  390 ; 
members  of,  391-395  ; work  of, 
396-403 ; its  main  activity  the 
working  out  of  the  practical  and 
theoretic  aspects  of  anarchism, 
398  ; takes  a large  part  in  the 
elaboration  of  the  anarchist 
ideal,  403 ; wrongly  accused  of 
conspiracy  against  the  lives  of 
European  sovereigns,  416,  417 ; 
its  organ,  the  Avant-Garde,  sup- 
pressed, 417  ; boldly  declares  it- 
self anarchist-communist,  447.  See 
International  Workingmen’s  As- 
sociation. 

Jura  Mountains,  the,  Kropotkin 
visits,  281  ; socialism  in,  282,  286, 
287. 

Kard,  Transbaikdlia,  194. 

Kara  Sea,  the,  231,  232. 

Karakdzoff,  252-256,  301. 

Karandind,  Elisabeth,  her  mar- 
riage to  the  author’s  father,  14, 
15.  See  Kropdtkin,  Princess. 

Katkdff,  162 ; the  leader  of  the 
serfdom  party,  180 ; accuses 
radicals  and  liberals  of  complicity 
with  Karakdzoff,  254 ; 260,  309, 
429. 

Kavdlin,  151. 

Kelnitz,  Dmitri,  his  personality 
and  student  life,  303,  304  ; invites 
the  author  to  join  the  circle  of 
Tchaykdvsky,  304  ; 309,  325,  326; 
evading  the  police,  330,  331,  335 ; 
goes  to  the  Balkan  peninsula  t* 
join  the  insurgents,  383. 

Keltie,  J.  Scott,  381,  382. 

Kennan,  George,  181,  182. 

Kessler,  Professor,  498. 


510 


INDEX 


Khamdr-dabdn,  219. 

Khdnshina  (Chinese  brandy),  190. 

Khdrkoff,  the  prison  of,  427,  428. 

Khingdn,  the  Great,  199,  203,  204, 
206. 

Kirin.  See  Ghirin. 

Klasdvsky,  Professor,  84,  86-88, 
156. 

Knowles,  James,  499. 

Kohandvsky,  Madame  ( “ V.  Kres- 
tdvskiy  ” ),  251. 

Komfloff,  the  sisters,  318,  320. 

Korsdkoff,  governor  - general  of 
East  Siberia,  169,  208. 

Korsdkoff,  General,  of  the  fortress 
of  St.  Peter  and  St.  Paul,  341, 
342. 

Kovalevsky,  Sophie  (Sdnya),  260. 

Kovdlsky,  426,  427. 

Kravchinsky,  Serghdi  (Stepnidk), 
conversation  with  the  author  and 
George  Kennan,  182 ; 267 ; his 
Career  of  o Nihilist.  278  ; a gen- 
eral favorite  in  the  circle  of 
Tchaykdvsky,  319  ; his  reckless- 
ness about  his  own  safety,  319, 
320 ; beginning  of  an  intimate 
acquaintance  with  the  author, 
320  ; his  personality,  320,  321  ; a 
story  of  his  work  among  the 
peasants,  321  ; his  cryptographic 
correspondence  with  the  author, 
321,  322 ; his  work  among  the 
peasants  in  disguise,  322  ; his 
escape  from  arrest,  323  ; a leader 
of  the  agitation  in  Moscow,  323  ; 
as  a pamphleteer,  324  ; 325  ; elud- 
ing arrest,  330  ; forced  to  leave 
St.  Petersburg,  331 ; goes  to  the 
Balkan  peninsula  to  aid  the  in- 
surrection against  Turkey,  383 ; 
435  ; in  London,  488. 

Krestdvskiy,  V.,  251. 

Kropdtkin,  Madame,  the  author’s 
wife,  in  poor  health,  424  ; a 
severe  literary  critic  of  her  hus- 
band’s writings,  424  ; 437,  438, 
440,  442,  449-451,  460  ; leaves  her 
studies  and  settles  at  Clairvaux 
near  the  prison,  461  ; her  inter- 
views with  her  husband  in  prison, 
461  ; 465 ; detects  a Russian  spy 
in  London,  477,  478  ; her  experi- 
ence with  two  spies  at  Clairvaux, 
480-482 ; 485.  488. 

Kropdtkin,  Princess  (Ekaterina 
Sulima),  the  author’s  mother, 
her  death,  6,  7 ; her  marriage, 
11 ; her  personality,  12  ; 60, 01. 


Kropdtkin,  Princess  (Elisabeth 
Karandind),  the  author’s  step- 
mother, 26,  41,  42,  45,  50,  51,  56, 
58,  59,  64,  264,  265. 

Kropdtkin,  Alexander  (Sdsha), 
the  author’s  brother,  6,  7,  15,  17, 
21,  23,  24j  enters  a corps  of  cadets 
by  the  Tsar’s  orders,  26,  27,  48 ; 
45 ; development  of  his  intellect 
at  school,  48  ; 61 ; early  literary 
attempts,  68;  69 ; 85  ; correspond- 
ence with  his  brother,  94-97  ; a 
reader  and  writer  of  poetry,  95  ; 
his  ideas  about  reading,  95,  96 ; 
his  ideas  on  religion  and  philo- 
sophy, 96-98 ; clandestine  meet- 
ings with  his  brother,  99-101 ; 102, 
155,  195 ; becomes  an  officer  of 
the  Irkdtsk  Cossacks,  198  ; with 
his  brother  at  Irkdtsk,  217 ; re- 
turns to  St.  Petersburg  with  his 
brother,  223 ; enters  the  military 
academy  for  jurisprudence,  224  ; 
in  the  literary  circles  of  St. 
Petersburg,  249,  250 ; his  last 
visit  to  his  father,  264,  265 ; visits 
his  brother  in  prison,  347-349 ; 
his  veracity  and  frankness,  347 ; 
removes  to  Switzerland,  347  ; his 
attitude  towards  socialism,  348  ; 
his  scientific  work,  348  ; returns 
to  St.  Petersburg  to  help  his 
brother,  348  ; obtains  permission 
for  his  brother  to  finish  his  book 
on  the  glacial  period  in  the 
fortress,  349  ; another  interview 
with  his  brother,  354,  355  ; his 
arrest  and  exile,  355-357 ; his 
term  of  exile,  445,  489 ; corre- 
spondence with  his  brother,  488- 
490  ; his  astronomical  work,  490  ; 
hampered  in  his  scientific  work 
by  the  conditions  of  his  exile, 
490,  491  ; despair  and  death,  491. 

Kropdtkin,  Prince  Alexei  Petrd- 
vich,  the  author’s  father,  7 ; his 
character  and  military  career, 
9-11  ; his  first  marriage,  11 ; mar- 
ries Elisabeth  Karandind  two 
years  after  the  death  of  the 
author’s  mother,  14  ; 26,  27  ; his 
wealth  in  serfs,  28  ; his  private 
band.  29,  30 ; his  pleasure  in 
exercising  patronage  and  in  enter- 
taining, 30  ; his  gambling.  31 ; 
his  economies  and  extravagances, 
31  ; 36,  39—42,  45,  4S  ; his  treat- 
ment of  his  serfs,  50,  51,  53,  54,  57- 
62  ; secures  his  promotion  as  gen- 


INDEX 


511 


eral  through  his  ex-serf,  59 ; 99, 
156  ; his  last  illness,  264,  265  ; his 
funeral,  265. 

Kropotkin,  Dmitri  Nikolaevich, 
the  author’s  cousin,  aide-de-camp 
of  the  Emperor,  131,  165 ; gov- 
ernor-general of  Khdrkoff,  357  ; 
shot  by  a revolutionist,  428 ; his 
attitude  towards  political  offend- 
ers, 428. 

Kropdtkin,  Hdlkne,  the  author’s 
sister,  7,  17,  18,  30,  31,  56,  63,  65, 
68,  97,  354,  355,  357 ; secures 
adequate  medical  attendance  for 
her  brother  in  prison,  364 ; ar- 
rested and  imprisoned  for  a fort- 
night, 376  : 489. 

Kropdtkin,  Nicholas,  the  author’s 
brother,  7,  26,  48  ; goes  to  the 
Crimean  war,  63. 

Kropdtkin,  Pauline,  the  author’s 
half-sister,  45,  49,  264,  265. 

Kropdtkin,  Peter,  birth,  5 ; at  his 
mother’s  death-bed,  6,  7 ; ances- 
try and  parentage,  8-13 ; his 
father’s  second  marriage,  14,  15  ; 
his  lessons  at  home,  16-18  ; child- 
ish amusements,  18-22 ; early 
visits  to  the  theatre,  20-22  ; at- 
tends a fancy  dress  ball  in  honor 
of  the  Tsar,  25 ; is  inscribed  as 
a candidate  for  the  corps  of 
pages,  25,  26  ; home  life  in  Mos- 
cow, 28-31,  36-39 ; life  at  Nikdl- 
skoye,  39-46 ; awakening  of  a 
love  of  nature,  44 ; becomes  in- 
terested in  the  French  Revolution 
and  renounces  his  title,  47  ; has  a 
German  tutor,  48  ; goes  to  school 
for  a time,  48 ; under  his  Russian 
tutor,  48,  49 ; growing  love  of 
nature,  49  ; early  development  of 
literary  tastes,  49 ; intellectual 
development  at  fourteen,  66-68  ; 
early  ventures  in  authorship  and 
journalism,  68-70 ; enters  the 
corps  of  pages  at  St.  Petersburg, 
70,  71 ; life  at  the  school  of  pages, 
72-93,  108-125 ; studies  German 
literature,  85,  86  ; correspondence 
with  his  brother  Alexander,  94- 
97  ; his  reading  while  at  the 
school  of  pages,  95-98 ; church- 
going  and  religion,  96,  97 ; his 
first  start  as  an  investigator  of 
the  life  of  the  people,  102-107  ; 
at  the  funeral  of  the  Dowager- 
Empress,  109-111  • studies  his- 
tory, 113, 114 ; studies  the  natural 


sciences  and  other  branches,  114- 
118;  interest  in  machinery,  119; 
fondness  for  music  and  the  opera, 
119,  120 ; learns  surveying,  123- 
125  ; first  acquaintance  with  re- 
volutionary literature,  126,  127 ; 
becomes  a constitutionalist,  127, 
128  ; appointed  sergeant  of  the 
corps  of  pages  and  page  de 
chambre  to  the  Emperor,  140 ; life 
at  court,  141-149  ; choosing  a regi- 
ment, 154-156  ; assists  in  fighting 
the  great  fire  in  St.  Petersburg, 
157-161 ; becomes  an  officer  of 
the  mounted  Cossacks  of  the 
Amiir,  162, 166, 167  ; conversation 
with  the  Emperor,  166,  167  ; ben- 
efit derived  from  residence  in 
Siberia,  168  ; arrives  at  Irkiitsk 
and  becomes  aide-de-camp  to 
General  Kiikel,  the  governor  of 
Transbaikalia,  169 ; goes  to  Chitd. 
and  assists  the  governor  in  pro- 
moting the  reform  of  the  exile 
system  and  instituting  municipal 
self-government,  170-173 ; his 
plans  of  reform  buried  under  the 
wave  of  reaction,  181 ; his  travels 
in  government  service  on  the 
Amtir  and  its  tributaries,  184, 
187-194 ; journey  as  courier  from 
Irkiitsk  to  St.  Petersburg,  194- 
196 ; interviews  with  officials, 
196,  197 ; a winter  journey  to 
Irkiitsk,  198 ; appointed  attache 
to  the  Governor-General  of  East 
Siberia  for  Cossack  affairs,  198  ; 
an  exploration  in  Manchuria, 
199-207  ; an  exploring  journey  up 
the  Sungari,  208-212 ; investi- 
gates the  economical  conditions 
of  the  Usuri  Cossacks,  213 ; ex- 
lorations  in  and  about  Trans- 
aikdlia,  214,  215  ; lessons  taught 
him  by  his  life  in  Siberia,  215- 
217 ; prepared  to  become  an  anar- 
chist, 217  ; life  with  his  brother 
Alexander  in  Irkiitsk,  217  ; leaves 
the  military  service  after  the  in- 
surrection of  Polish  exiles  and 
returns  to  St.  Petersburg,  223  ; 
enters  the  university,  224 ; dis- 
covers the  principles  of  the  dis- 

Sosition  of  the  mountains  of 
lorthern  Asia,  224-227 ; secre- 
tary to  the  section  of  physical 
geography  of  the  Russian  Geo- 
graphical Society,  228  ; plans  an 
arctic  expedition,  which  is  vetoed 


512 


INDEX 


by  the  government,  232  -234 ; 
Bent  by  the  Geographical  Society 
to  Finland  and  Sweden  for  the 
urpose  of  exploring  the  glacial 
eposits,  234,  235  ; anxious  to 
write  an  exhaustive  physical 
geography  of  Russia,  235 ; de- 
clines the  position  of  secretary  to 
the  Geographical  Society,  235, 
236 ; his  interest  in  the  life  of  the 
peasants  awakened  in  Finland, 
237-241 ; returns  to  St.  Peters- 
burg, 242  ; his  last  visit  to  his 
father.  264,  265 ; attends  his 
fathers  funeral,  265 ; his  first 
visit  to  Western  Europe,  268 ; 
joins  the  International  Working- 
men’s  Association  at  Zurich, 
274  ; visits  Geneva,  276  ; decides 
to  devote  his  life  to  the  cause 
of  revolution,  278 ; visits  Neu- 
chatel  and  the  Jura  Mountains 
and  observes  the  work  of  the 
Jura  Federation,  281-287 ; be- 
comes an  anarchist,  287  ; returns 
to  St.  Petersburg,  292-295 ; smug- 
gling prohibited  books  and  papers 
into  Russia,  293-295 ; at  the 
university  again,  303 ; joins  the 
circle  of  Tchaykdvsky,  304-306  ; 
offers  to  lay  aside  personal  feel- 
ings and  work  for  constitution- 
alism, 313,  314 ; his  proposal 
not  accepted  by  the  circle,  314  ; 
his  work  in  the  circle,  317,  324  ; 
acquaintance  and  correspond- 
ence with  StepniAk,  320-322 ; 
talks  to  the  workers  in  disguise, 
326  - 329 ; takes  the  name  of 
Borodin,  328 ; eluding  arrest, 
331-333  ; reads  to  the  Geographi- 
cal Society  his  report  on  the 
glacial  formations  of  Finland  and 
Russia,  333  ; his  arrest,  334,  335  ; 
his  examination  by  the  public 
prosecutor,  335,  337-340 ; im- 

frisoned  in  the  fortress  of  St. 

'eter  and  St.  Paul,  340-342  ; his 
cell,  344,  345 ; exercising  body 
and  mind  in  prison,  345-347; 
obtains  permission  to  finish  his 
hook  on  the  glacial  period,  349  ; 
at  work  on  his  book,  350,  351 ; 
his  reading  in  prison,  351 ; routine 
of  prison  life,  352-354  ; his  last 
interview  with  his  brother,  354, 
355 ; conversation  between  the 
cells,  359,  360 ; receives  a visit 
from  the  Grand  Duke  Nicholas, 


360-362 ; his  health  gives  way, 
363 ; removed  with  other  prison- 
ers to  the  house  of  detention, 
363 ; grows  worse,  364  ; trans- 
ferred to  the  military  hospital, 
365 ; his  health  improves,  365, 
368 ; plans  escape,  366-371 ; es- 
capes, 371-374  ; eluding  recap- 
ture, 375,  376  ; succeeds  in  reach- 
ing England,  376-378;  lands 
under  the  name  of  Levashbff  and 
goes  to  Edinburgh,  378  ; decides 
to  remain  in  Western  Europe 
working  in  the  cause  of  anar- 
chism, 378,  379 ; writes  for  Nature 
and  The  Times,  380,  381 ; removes 
to  London  in  search  of  more 
regular  work,  381 ; asked  to  re- 
view his  own  books,  381,  382 ; 
goes  to  Switzerland,  382,  383 ; 
joins  the  Jura  Federation  and 
settles  in  La  Chaux-de-Fonds, 
383 ; work  for  the  cause  of  anar- 
chism, 396-405 ; forced  to  return 
to  England,  405  ; goes  to  Paris 
and  starts  socialist!  groups  there, 
406 ; escapes  arrest  as  an  Inter- 
nationalist, 407 ; acquaintance 
with  Turgu4neff,  408—413 ; starts 
Le  Revolts  as  an  organ  of  the 
Jura  Federation,  417,  418;  his 
work  on  the  paper,  418—424 ; re- 
moves from  Geneva  to  Clarens, 
Switzerland,  and  assists  Elis4e 
Reclus  with  his  geography  in  ad- 
dition to  his  anarchist  labors, 
423,  424 ; his  life  in  danger  from 
Russian  agents  on  account  of  his 
supposed  connection  with  con- 
spiracies against  the  Tsar,  435, 
438 ; expelled  from  Switzerland, 
436,  437 ; previous  stay  in  Eng- 
land writing  articles  on  Russian 
affairs  for  the  Newcastle  Chron- 
icle, 437 ; settles  in  Thonon, 
France,  438 ; removes  to  London, 
440  ; socialist  work  in  England, 
441,  442  ; goes  back  to  Thonon, 
443 ; under  the  constant  surveil- 
lance of  spies,  443-446 ; accused 
by  newspapers  of  being  the  leader 
of  the  agitation  at  Lyons,  449 ; 
the  police  seek  to  entrap  him, 
449,  450 ; arrested  and  taken  to 
Lyons,  450 ; his  trial  and  sentence 
to’  five  years’  imprisonment,  451- 
455 ; confinement  in  the  Lvons 
prison,  456-459  ; transferred  to 
the  central  prison  of  Clairvaux, 


INDEX 


513 


458,  459;  confinement  at  Clair- 
vaux,  460-470 ; petition  for  his 
release  and  offer  of  the  use  of 
books,  460 ; his  release,  484 ; 
lectures  on  anarchism  in  Paris, 
488  ; goes  to  London  and  settles 
at  Harrow,  488  ; loses  his  brother 
Alexander,  488-491 ; birth  of  a 
daughter,  491 ; lectures  in  Eng- 
land and  Scotland  on  prisons  and 
anarchist  socialism,  493 ; starts 
Freedom , an  anarchist-communist 
monthly,  497 ; anarchist  writ- 
ings, 497 ; his  researches  in  pro- 
duction and  distribution  result  in 
a series  of  articles,  497,  498 ; 
makes  researches  and  publishes 
articles  on  mutual  aid  as  a law 
of  nature,  498,  499;  further  re- 
searches, 500. 

Kropdtkin,  Petr  Nikoldevich,  the 
author’s  cousin,  178. 

Kropdtkin  family,  origin  of  the,  8. 

Xrugldff,  Gherdsim  Ivdnovieh,  58, 
59. 

Kdkel , General,  Kropdtkin  be- 
comes his  aide  - de  - camp,  169 ; 
romotes  various  reforms  in 
iberia,  170-173 ; his  recall,  180, 
181,  196. 

Kupreydnoff,  319. 

La  Chaux-de-Fonds,  Switzerland, 
383,  396. 

Lavrdff,  Colonel  P.  L.,  348,  355  ; 
his  newspaper  Forward , 381,  382 ; 
408,  411. 

Lefrangais,  a refugee  of  the  Com- 
mune, 392,  393,  424. 

Ldna,  the  river,  215,  218. 

Letter  in  court,  a,  452-454. 

Levashdff,  name  used  by  the 
author  to  conceal  his  identity, 
378,  404,  405,  407.  _ 

Liberal  movement  in  Russia,  the, 
in  185T-61,  128-130 ; reaction, 
130-132;  the  emancipation  mani- 
festo issued,  133,  134 ; serious 
reaction  produced  by  the  great 
fire  of  1862  in  St.  Petersburg, 
162-166 ; great  reforms  on  foot 
in  Siberia,  169-173  ; attitude  of 
Russian  people  in  Polish  revo- 
lution, 174,  175 ; the  Polish  in- 
surrection, the  definitive  close  of 
the  reform  period  in  Russia, 
180  ; the  wave  of  reaction  reaches 
Siberia,  180,  181 ; betrayal  of  the 
reform  movement  by  Alexander 


11.,  183;  liberal  ideas  in  bad 
repute  in  offioial  circles  in  the 
seventies,  242,  249-251 ; Kara- 
kdzoff’s  attempt  upon  the  Tsar’s 
life  and  its  effect  upon  the 
liberal  movement,  252-254 ; posi- 
tion of  the  Russian  youth  in  the 
struggle  for  more  political  free- 
dom, 256,  257 ; an  opportunity 
lost  at  the  accession  of  Alexander 

111.,  436.  See  Constitutionalism 
in  Russia,  Nihilism,  Revolution- 
ary movements  in  Russia. 

Literature,  the  teaching  of,  88. 

Locarno,  Switzerland,  288. 

London,  socialism  in,  440  - 442, 
492,  495. 

Lunatic  in  prison,  a,  360. 

Lyons,  an  industrial  crisis  at,  447- 
449  ; the  author  taken  to,  450  ; 
the  trial  of  the  author  and  the 
Lyons  anarchists  at,  451-454 ; the 
author’s  imprisonment  at,  456- 
458,  468,  469. 

Machinery,  119. 

Mdikoff,  the  poet,  242. 

Makdr,  servant  in  the  Kropdtkin 
family,  29,  50,  61. 

Makldy.  See  Mikldkho-Makldy. 

Malatesta,  his  life  and  personality, 
394  ; 479. 

Malon,  a refugee  of  the  Commune, 

283-285. 

Mdloyarosldvetz,  the  battlefield  of, 
42,  43. 

Manchuria,  geographical  explora- 
tions in,  199-212  ; the  authorities 
suspicious  of  Russia,  210 ; the 
Chinese  in,  210,  211.  See  Am  dr 
region,  the. 

Map,  a Tungus,  214,  215. 

Marie  Alexdndrovna,  Empress,  25, 
84,  142 ; her  character  and  in- 
fluence, 161;  178;  becomes  _ a 
devotee  and  falls  under  the  in- 
fluence of  a priest,  247 ; aban- 
doned by  her  husband  and  left  to 
die  in  neglect,  430  : 431. 

Martin,  a fellow-prisoner  of  the 
author’s,  456,  465. 

Marx,  Karl,  281,  386. 

Mdslia,  maid  of  the  author’s 
mother,  60,  61. 

Matvdi,  a servant  in  the  Kropdtkin 
family,  15. 

Mdlikoff,  Ldris,  given  dictatorial 

c-  powers  by  Alexander  II.,  430 ; 
as  minister  of  the  interior  he 


514 


INDEX 


urges  liberal  policies  upon  the 
Tsar.  430,  431 ; warns  the  Tsar 
of  plots  against  his  life,  431 ; 
some  revelations  of  his  post- 
humous papers,  435,  436  ; 489. 

Merghdn,  Manchuria,  206. 

Mdzentsoff,  General,  chief  of  the 
Third  Section,  415  j killed  by 
revolutionists,  428. 

Michel,  Louise,  her  orime,  im- 
prisonment, and  release,  484 ; 
arouses  the  enthusiasm  of  her 
audiences,  487,  488. 

Mikhael,  Grand  Duke,  brother  to 
Alexander  II.,  149;  assists  Kro- 
pdtkin to  his  appointment  in 
Siberia,  161,  162. 

Mikhael,  Grand  Duke,  brother  to 
Nicholas  I.,  10  ; teases  the  young 
Kropdtkin,  25 ; his  military  dis- 
cipline, 55. 

Mikhdiloff,  the  poet,  172,  249. 

Mikhdiloff,  Adndn,  256. 

Mikldkho-Makldy,  Nikoldi  Niko- 
Idevich,  228, 229. 

Military  service  in  Russia,  54-56. 

Military  spirit,  under  Nicholas  I., 
9, 10 ; in  all  Europe  at  the  present 
day,  501. 

Mildtin,  Dmitri,  197,  242. 

Mildtin,  Nicholas,  132,  151 ; his 
mission  to  free  the  serfs  in  Po- 
land, 177-179;  180;  treated  as  a 
suspect,  242. 

Mlrslti,  Prince,  33, 126. 

Mfrski,  Princess,  126. 

Moncasi,  Oliva,  416. 

Monceau-les-Mines,  France,  448. 

Moscow,  description  of,  1-5  ; nobil- 
ity of,  2,  3 ; celebration  of  the 
twenty-fifth  anniversary  of  the 
accession  of  Nicholas  I.  at,  23-26 ; 
in  the  seventies,  264-267. 

Mountains  of  Northern  Asia,  gen- 
eral trend  of  the,  224-227. 

Muravidff,  Mikhael,  sent  to  Lithu- 
ania during  the  Polish  revolu- 
tion, 178 ; his  oruelty  to  the  Poles, 
179 ; suspected  of  using  torture, 
254,  256 ; a terror  to  the  radicals, 
256. 

Muravidff,  Count  Nicholas  N.,  his 
character  and  opinions,  169 ; in- 
tervenes to  save  Kdkel  from 
imprisonment,  181 ; his  annexa- 
tion and  settlement  of  the  Amdr 
region,  184-186 ; marries  colonists 
by  wholesale,  185,  186 ; treated  as 
a suspect,  242. 


Mutual  aid  a law  of  nature,  498. 

499.  # 

Mishkin,  nihilist,  412. 

Napoleon  I.,  42,  43. 

Napoleon  ill.,  163,  175 ; plays  the 
part  of  a Caesar  towards  the  work- 
ing classes,  485. 

Nature , the  journal,  Kropdtkin’s 
contributions  to,  380. 

Nazlmoff,  General,  129. 

Nazimoffj  Madame,  23,  24,  26. 

Nechdieff,  revolutionist,  304,  305, 
343. 

Neuchatel,  Kropdtkin  visits,  281 ; 
socialists  at,  282-285. 

Newcastle  Chronicle,  the,  Kropdt- 
kin writes  for,  437,  444. 

Nicholas  I.,  celebration  of  the 
twenty-fifth  anniversary  of  his 
accession,  23  - 26  ; notices  the 
young  Kropdtkin,  25 ; appoints 
Kropdtkin  to  the  corps  of  pages, 
25,  26 ; forces  the  sons  of  the 
nobility  to  adopt  the  military 
career,  26,  27  ; 55 ; death  of,  64, 
65  ; press  censorship  under,  66, 
67  ; organizes  the  Third  Section, 
336. 

Nicholas,  Grand  Duke,  brother  of 
Alexander  II.,  interviews  the 
author  in  prison,  360-362. 

Nihilism,  a revolt  against  domestic 
despotism,  296;  not  to  be  con- 
fused with  terrorism,  297 ; sin- 
cerity the  distinctive  feature  of, 
297-301 ; enthusiasm  for,  301, 
302 ; not  a revolutionary  move- 
ment, 302 ; 401.  See  Circle  of 
Tchaykdvsky,  Socialism,  “ To 
the  people.” 

Nikoldevsk,  Siberia,  208. 

Nikoldi  Alexdndrovich,  heir  ap- 
parent to  the  Russian  throne,  84, 
151 , 152. 

Nikdlskoye,  serfs  bring  provisions 
from,  36-39  ; the  annual  moving 
to,  39-44 ; description  of,  44  ; life 
at,  45,  46 ; 99 ; the  annual  fair  at, 
102-104 ; after  the  emancipation 
of  the  serfs,  136,  238. 

Nineteenth  Century,  Kropdtkin 
writes  for,  459,  498,  499. 

Nlzovkin,  arrest  of,  331. 

Nobiling,  Dr.,  416. 

Nonconformists,  Russian,  45,  46 

Ndnni,  the  river,  209. 

Nordensjkold,  Baron  Nils  Adolf 
Erik,  234. 


Ndvaya  Zemlyd,  231,  233,  234. 

Novikdff,  Madame,  437. 

Ob,  the  river,  195. 

Ob<5,  an,  203. 

Okhrdna,  434. 

Old  Equerries’  Quarter  (Stdraya 
KonjTishennaya),  description  of, 
2-5 ; 35  ; its  changed  condition  in 
the  seventies,  264-267. 

Olga,  Madame,  276. 

Oldkma,  the  river,  214. 

On<5n,  the  river,  208. 

Ootin,  Nicholas,  276,  279,  280. 

Opera,  the  Italian,  119,  120,  252. 

Opera,  the  Russian,  252. 

Orography  of  Asia,  381. 

Ouroiisovo,  one  of  the  Kropdtkin 
estates,  8,  9. 

Owenism,  405. 

Pages,  corps  of.  See  Corps  of 
pages. 

Pages  de  chambre,  75-77,  140-144. 
See  Corps  of  pages. 

Paris,  revival  of  socialist  move- 
ment after  the  rigid  suppression 
of  the  Commune,  406 ; an  anar- 
chist movement  develops  in,  447  ; 
an  animated  socialist  and  anar- 
chist movement  in  1886  at,  487, 
488. 

Paroles  d’un  Pfvoltf  423,  497. 

Passanante,  makes  an  attempt  upon 
the  life  of  the  King  of  Italy, 
416. 

Passport,  an  imposing,  205,  206. 

Pauline  (Pdlya),  one  of  the  Kro- 
pdtkin  maidservants,  56,  57. 

Pdvloff,  N.  M.,  69. 

Peasants,  Finnish,  agricultural  con- 
dition of,  237,  238. 

Peasants,  Russian,  46 ; their  good 
sense  and  intelligence,  105 ; their 
independent  spirit,  105,  106 ; 
“ Crown  peasants,”  107  ; their 
condition  after  emancipation, 
136-139  ; agricultural  conditions 
of,  238,  239.  See  Serfs,  “ To  the 
people.” 

Pedashdnko,  Colonel,  170,  194. 

People,  the,  their  willingness  and 
ability  to  learn,  240.  See  “To 
the  people.” 

Perdvskaya,  Sophie,  304 ; person- 
ality of,  317-319 ; her  arrest, 
330. 

Peterhof,  Russia,  121. 

Petermann,  geographer,  227. 


INDEX  515 

Pindy,  a refugee  of  the  Commune, 

283,  284,  393,  396. 

Pfsareff,  imprisonment  of,  249. 
Polakdff,  naturalist,  215 ; a letter 
addressed  to  him  occasions  his 
arrest,  335,  338-340 ; meets  the 
author  in  Geneva  in  1878,  340; 
351,  355. 

Poland,  beginnings  of  the  revolu- 
tion of  1863  in,  162-164  ; outbreak 
of  the  revolution,  174-176 ; mis- 
take of  the  revolutionists  in  not 
freeing  the  serfs,  176-179;  dis- 
astrous failure  of  the  insurrec- 
tion, 179,  180 ; smuggling  on  the 
frontier  of,  293-295. 

Polish  exiles,  insurrection  of  the, 
218-222. 

Political  economy,  interest  of  Rus- 
sian people  in,  98. 

Polozhdnie  (the  emancipation  law), 
135,  136.  See  Serfs. 

P<51ya.  See  Pauline. 

Potdpoff,  General,  his  cruelty  and 
corruption,  244,  245. 

Pouget,  anarchist,  484. 

Poulain,  M.,  engaged  as  tutor  in  the 
Kropdtkin  family,  15  ; his  meth- 
ods, 16-18 ; 20,  43  ; at  Nikdl- 
skoye,  45,  46 ; his  opinions  of 
revolutions,  47  ; dismissed,  48. 
Praskdvia,  servant  in  the  Kropdt- 
kin  family,  100. 

Priest,  a Greek,  474. 

Priesthood,  the  Russian,  its  atti- 
tude towards  the  schools,  247. 
Prisons,  in  Russia  in  1862  and  1886, 
181 ; the  fortress  of  St.  Peter  and 
St.  Paul,  343-345,  352,  353;  a 
show  prison,  363,  364  ; horrors  of 
Russian,  426,  427,  467  ; their  de- 
moralizing influence  upon  the 
prisoners,  456,  457,  466-468 ; the 
Lyons  prison,  456-458,  468,  469  ; 
imprisonment  apunishment  which 
often  bears  more  severely  upon 
the  prisoner’s  family  than  upon 
himself,  457,  458;  the  central 
prison  of  Clairvaux,  458-470 ; 
French  prisons  more  humane  than 
English,  462 ; convicts  not  re- 
formed in,  462,  463,  466-468;  the 
rule  of  absolute  silence  in  French 
prisons,  464  ; universities  of  crime, 
468 ; nests  of  moral  infection,  469, 
470;  the  present  system  unjust 
and  foolish,  470. 

PrjevjUsky,  as  an  explorer  and 
hunter,  230,  231;  380. 


516 


INDEX 


Pumpelly,  Raphael,  217. 

Pungahdrju,  234. 

Pushkin,  Alexander,  his  Evgheniy 
Onyeghin , 67. 

Reclns,  Elie,  485-487. 

Reclus,  Elisde,  personality  of,  392  ; 
400 ; publishes  KropOtkin’s  edi- 
torials under  the  title  of  Paroles 
d'un  Revolte , 423,  497;  his  work 
on  Le  Revolte,  423  ; invites  Kro- 
pdtkin  to  aid  him  on  his  Geogra- 
phy, 423  ; 424,  450,  478  ; his  friend- 
ship with  his  brother  Elie,  485; 
his  early  life,  485 ; joins  the  Com- 
mune, 486. 

Reform  in  Russia.  See  Liberal 
movement  in  Russia. 

Renan,  Ernest,  460. 

Repninsky,  General,  46. 

Revolte,  La,  497. 

Rtvolti,  Le,  the  starting  of,  417, 
418;  its  aim,  418,  419;  editing 
and  proof-reading  of,  420 ; diffi- 
culty in  securing  a printer,  420, 
421 ; starts  its  own  printing-office, 
421, 422 ; its  circulation  in  France, 
423,  447  ; 438,  444,  476  ; its  nick- 
name deceives  the  Russian  em- 
bassy, 481 ; prosecuted  for  anti- 
militarist  propaganda  and  com- 
pelled to  change  its  name,  497. 

Revolution,  the  coming  social,  502. 
See  Anarchism,  Communism, 
Revolutionary  movements  in 
Russia,  Socialism. 

Revolutionary  movements  in  Rus- 
sia, in  1857-61,  126,  127,  129,  135, 
136,  150;  in  1862,  162-164 ; the 
unsuccessful  organization  formed 
by  Nech&ieff,  304,  305 ; work  of 
the  circle  of  Tchaykdvsky,  305  ; 
“ the  mad  summer  ” of  1875, 
358 ; an  armed  struggle  takes 
the  place  of  the  socialistic  pro- 
paganda, 378,  325-432;  work  of 
the  “Executive  Committee,” 
429-431,  435 ; a compromise  be- 
tween Igndtieff  and  the  Execu- 
tive Committee,  445.  See  Anar- 
chism, Circle  of  Tehaykdvsky, 
Communism,  Liberal  movement 
in  Russia,  Nihilism,  Socialism. 

Riuke,  a member  of  the  Jura  Fed- 
eration, 395,  404. 

Rogaehdff,  a revolutionist,  322. 

Russia,  its  external  appearance  and 
climate  contrasted  with  Western 
Europe,  268. 


Russian  Geographical  Society,  the, 
some  of  the  members  of,  228-230  ; 
awakes  to  an  interest  in  arctic 
exploration,  231,  232  ; appoints  a 
committee  to  prepare  a plan  for 
an  expedition,  232 ; the  commit- 
tee’s report,  232,  233  ; its  plans 
for  an  expedition  under  KropOt- 
kin’s  leadership  vetoed  by  the 
government,  233,  234  ; sends  Kro- 
pdtkin  to  Finland  and  Sweden  to 
explore  the  glacial  deposits,  234  ; 
Kropdtkin  offered  the  position  of 
secretary,  which  he  declines,  235, 
236 ; Kropdtkin  reads  his  report 
on  his  Finland  expedition  before, 
333. 

Russo-Turkish  war,  the,  414. 

Ryazan,  a Kropdtkin  estate,  48. 

RysokOff,  his  part  in  the  assassina- 
tion of  Alexander  II.,  432. 

St.  Imier,  Switzerland,  396 ; the 
red  flag  at,  397,  398. 

St.  Peter  and  St.  Paul  fortress  of. 
See  Fortress  of  St.  Peter  and  St. 
Paul. 

St.  Petersburg,  the  great  fire  of 
1862,  157-164  ; its  official  life  in 
the  seventies,  242-248 ; its  intel- 
lectual life  in  the  seventies,  249, 
250  ; deteriorating  effects  of  the 
reaction  from  liberalism,  250,  252. 

Saint-Simonism,  405. 

Sansaux,  Madame,  438,  439,  443, 
444 

Sardtoff,  Russia,  164. 

Sisha  the  Doctor,  57,  58. 

Savdlieff,  AntOn,  138,  139. 

Sayins,  the,  214. 

Scldusselburg,  Russia,  445. 

Schmidt,  Frederick,  234,  333. 

School.  See  Corps  of  pages. 

Schwitzgudbel,  Adhdmar,  Kropot- 
kin's first  meeting  with,  286  ; hi3 
personality,  391 ; 396 ; compelled 
to  retire  from  the  anarchist  move- 
ment, 417. 

Science,  pleasures  of  discovery  in, 

226,  227,  239. 

Sciences,  natural,  the  teaching  of, 

88,  89. 

Sebastopol,  63-65. 

Semydnova,  the  actress,  9. 

Serdukdff,  forms  a socialist  circle 
among  the  engineers,  325 ; in  dan- 
ger of  arrest,  331,  332  ; his  con- 
finement, release,  and  suicide, 
359,  360. 


INDEX 


517 


Serfdom,  evils  of,  49-62  ; question 
of  abolition  agitated,  128-132 ; 
abolition  decreed,  132-136. 

Serfs,  wealth  measured  in,  28 ; 
harsh  treatment  of,  49-51,  56, 62  ; 
married  at  the  owners’  will,  52, 
53,  57  ; military  service  of,  54-56  ; 
education  of,  57-59  ; suppression 
of  revolts  among,  60  ; the  dream 
of  freedom,  60,  61  ; insurrections 
of,  129  ; emancipation  discussed 
and  accomplished,  129-136  ; con- 
ditions of  emancipation,  135-137, 
176  ; in  Poland  during  the  revo- 
lution of  1863, 176-179.  See  Ser- 
vants. 

Sergh4i.  See  Kravchfnsky, 

Servants,  in  the  Kropdtkin  house, 
19,  20,  28-30,  49-51,  53-61,  100, 
101  ; varied  duties  of  Russian,  28, 
29 ; after  emancipation,  137.  See 
Serfs. 

Seven  Mortal  Sins,  the,  189. 

Shflka,  the  river,  barge  navigation 
on,  186-189  ; scenery  on,  189  ; 194, 

' 208. 

Shiibin,  the  procureur,  364. 

Shuviloff,  Count,  140  ; his  influ- 
ence over  the  Tsar,  242-244  ; ap- 
pointed ambassador  to  England, 
.244  ; 254. 

Siberia,  general  description  of,  168, 
169 ; the  reform  movement  in, 
169-173 ; reaction  in,  180-183 ; 
autumn  traveling  in,  195 ; winter 
traveling  in,  198  ; the  administra- 
tion of,  213,  214 ; explorations 
in,  214,  215.  See  Amur  region, 
Transbaikalia. 

Sldoroff,  a Siberian  merchant  and 
gold  miner,  231. 

Skbbeleff,  Gen.  Mikhael,  435. 

Smirndff,  Nikoldi  Pdvlovich,  Rus- 
sian tutor  in  the  Kropdtkin  fam- 
ily, 15, 18, 20,  47-49 ; fosters  Kro- 
potkin’s literary  tastes,  66-69. 

Smuggling,  on  the  Polish  frontier, 
293-295. 

Social  Democracy,  the,  origin  of, 
385 ; its  hostility  towards  the 
revolutionary  spirit,  389 ; its  at- 
tempt to  control  the  entire  labor 
movement,  404,  405. 

Socialism,  in  1840-48,  270 ; total  de- 
struction of  the  movement,  270 ; 
revival  of,  271 ; work  of  the  In- 
ternational Workingmen’s  Asso- 
ciation, 271-274,  276-280;  litera- 
ture of,  275,  324,  418;  sacrifices 


of  the  workers  for,  277,  278 ; help 
from  educated  men  needed  for, 
278 ; necessity  of  revolutions  in 
the  cause  of,  289-291  ; impor- 
tance of  definite  ideals  in  revo- 
lutions, 291,  292 ; the  circle  of 
Tchaykdvsky  promotes,  305-308 ; 
a mass  movement  in  the  direction 
of,  308  ; persecutions  by  the  Rus- 
sian police,  309,  310 ; the  Tsar’s 
life  protected  hy  the  socialists, 
315,  316 ; Stepniak’s  propaganda 
of,  321-323  ; propaganda  by  per- 
sonal contact,  323,  324 ; propa- 
ganda by  pamphlets,  324  ; work 
among  the  engineers,  325,  326; 
propaganda  among  the  city  work- 
ers, 326-329  ; numerous  arrests 
among  the  propagandists,  330- 
332;  “the  mad  summer,”  358; 
gives  place  to  a revolutionary 
movement  in  Russia,  378,  379  ; 
socialist  papers  in  the  later  seven- 
ties, 389,  390  ; trial  and  sentence 
of  193  Russian  socialists,  414,  415  ; 
men  a greater  desideratum  than 
money  in  the  cause  of,  421 ; in 
England,  440-442 ; an  animated 
movement  in  Paris  in  1886,  487  ; 
the  movement  in  England  in  full 
swing,  492-496,  500,  501 ; the  true 
measure  of  the  depth  and  pene- 
tration of  socialist  ideas,  500.  See 
Anarchism,  Circle  of  Tchaykdv- 
sky,  Communism,  International 
Workingmen’s  Association,  Ni- 
hilism, Revolution,  Revolution- 
ary movements  in  Russia,  “To 
the  people.” 

Sokoloff,  socialist,  395. 

Solovi6ff,  his  attempt  on  the  Tsar’s 
life,  429. 

Spain,  work  of  the  International 
Workingmen’s  Association  in, 
273,  274 ; the  menace  of  the 
socialists  averts  a clerical  re- 
action in,  388. 

Spencer,  Herbert,  460,  487. 

Spichiger,  personality  of,  392 ; 396 ; 
forced  to  leave  Switzerland,  417. 

Spies,  Kropdtkin’s  lodgings  be- 
sieged by  Russian,  443,  444,  449  ; 
their  character  easily  detected, 

471,  472 ; the  Russian  agent  at 
Geneva,  471  ; a spy  at  Clarens, 

472,  473 ; amusing  report  of  a 
Frenrh  spy,  473-475 ; a female 
spy,  474,  475 ; a spy  betrayed  by 
a candlestick,  476,  477 ; almost 


518 


INDEX 


always  betray  themselves,  477 ; 
a Russian  spy  in  London  betrayed 
by  his  conversation,  477,  478  ; a 
spurious  anarchist  paper  and  its 
editor,  478-480  ; two  Russian  spies 
at  Clairvaux,  480-483 ; a German 
spy  visits  Clairvaux,  482  ; evils  of 
the  spy  system,  483. 

Stdraya  Konyusliennaya.  See  Old 
Equerries’  Quarter. 

Stdsova,  Miss,  263. 

Stepnidk.  See  Kravchinsky,  Ser- 
ghdi. 

Strikes,  famine,  426,  427. 

Struggle  for  existence,  the,  498, 499. 

Suddikin,  Colonel,  443. 

Sukhdnin,  Captain,  84. 

Sulfina,  Ekaterina.  See  Kropot- 
kin, Princess. 

Sulima,  Gen.  Nikoldi  Semydnovich, 

11,  22. 

Sunday-schools  in  Russia,  150, 165. 

Sungari,  the  river,  190  ; exploration 
of,  208-212; 

SuvOroff,  Prince,  governor-general 
of  St.  Petersburg,  160,  161. 

Sweden,  Kropotkin’s  visit  to,  234. 

Swinburne,  Algernon  Charles,  460. 

Switzerland,  its  action  in  expelling 
revolutionary  refugees,  436,  437  ; 
attitude  of  the  middle  classes  to- 
wards socialism,  495. 

SydvertsofE,  zoologist,  his  reluc- 
tance to  put  his  observations  and 
studies  into  writing,  228  ; 498. 

Szaramdwicz,  leader  of  the  insur- 
rection of  Polish  exiles,  222. 

Tambdv,  a Kropdtkin  estate,  138, 
312,  313,  333. 

Tanitino,  Russia.  43. 

Tchaykdvsky,  Nikoldi,  182,  266; 
friendship  of  the  author  with, 
304  ; twice  arrested  as  a suspect, 
310;  331,  337;  in  London,  441, 
488. 

Tchaykdvsky,  the  circle  of.  See 
Circle  of  Tchaykdvsky,  the. 

Terrorism.  See  Executive  Com- 
mittee, Nihilism,  Revolutionary 
movements  in  Russia. 

Third  Section,  the,  history  of,  335, 
336 ; its  cruelty  in  the  case  of 
Alexander  Kropdtkin,  355-357. 

Thonon,  France,  438,  440,  449.  450. 

Tikhon,  a servant  in  the  Kropdtkin 
household,  19,  29. 

Times,  The,  Kropdtkin  writes  for, 
3S0,  450. 


Timofdeff,  General,  14. 

“ To  the  people,”  the  watchword 
and  the  movement,  301,  302,  307, 
308,  318,  321-329 ; “the  mad  sum- 
mer,” 358.  See  Circle  of  Tchay- 
kdvsky,  Nihilism,  Socialism. 

To  the  Young,  Kropdtkin’s  address, 
424. 

Tolstdy,  Leo,  his  War  and  Peace, 
216  ; 298. 

Tom,  the  river,  195. 

Torture  in  Russian  prisons,  254-256. 

Tracts,  the  author  receives  and  re- 
turns, 437,  438. 

Transbaikdlia,  reform  in,  170-173; 
end  of  the  reform  era  in,  180-183 ; 
seeks  trade  with  the  middle 
Amiir,  199,  200;  discovery  of  a 
passage  to  the  gold  mines  of  the 
Yakdtsk  province,  214,  215. 

Transbaikdlian  Cossacks.  See  Cos- 

Trdpoff,  General,  chief  of  the  St. 
Petersburg  police,  145,  146 ; one 
of  the  real  rulers  of  Russia,  242, 
243 ; the  exposure  of  his  official 
corruption  245 ; 254  ; strikes  the 
prisoner  Bogoliiboff  and  orders 
him  flogged,  415 ; is  shot  and 
wounded  by  Vdra  Zasiilich,  415. 

Trial,  the  Lyons,  451-455. 

Turgudneff,  his  Mumu,  57 ; 67, 
131  ; his  Smoke,  251  ; his  Fathers 
and  Sons,  296,  411 ; his  portrayal 
of  the  nihilist  Bazdroff,  300,  301, 
411,  412  ; his  literary  service,  408 ; 
his  personality,  408,  409 ; on  the 
difference  between  Russian  con- 
ceptions on  certain  subjects  and 
those  of  other  peoples,  409,  410 ; 
his  novels,  410,  411  ; attitude  of 
the  nihilists  towards,  411  , on  his 
character  Bazdroff,  411  ; his 
Virgin  Soil,  411,  413;  meditates 
asking  Alexander  III.  to  give 
Russia  a constitution,  413. 

Turkestan,  228,  230. 

Turkey,  the  war  between  Russia 
and,  414. 

Ulidna,  Russian  nurse  of  the  Kro- 
pdtkin  children,  6,  7,  12,  15,  17, 
18,  20-22, 49-51. 

Universities,  disorders  in  the  Rus- 
sian, 150. 

Usdltzeff,  Th.,  astronomer,  209, 

212. 

Usurf,  the  river,  184,  186,  190,  208. 

Usuri  Cossacks.  See  Cossacks. 


INDEX 


519 


Varlin,  283.284. 

Verviers,  Belgium,  287, 

Vitim,  the  river,  214. 

Vladimir,  Grand  Duke,  435. 

Voinardlsky,  revolutionist,  323, 335. 

Werner,  a member  of  the  Jura 
Federation,  395,  404. 

White  Sea,  the,  231. 

Watchmakers  of  the  Jura  Moun- 
tains, the,  286,  287. 

Wielepdlsky,  Marquis,  163. 

Wilhelm  I.  of  Germany,  436. 

Winkler,  Colonel,  83. 

Women,  Russian,  the  higher  edu- 
cation of,  258-263 ; members  of 
the  circle  of  Tchaykdvsky,  317- 
319 ; work  of  rich  girls  among  the 
poor,  324. 


Vakiitsk,  the  province  of,  214,  216. 

Yurievski-Dolgordki,  Princess,  re- 
lations of  Alexander  II.  with, 
430. 

Zasdlich,  V6ra,  245;  shoots  and 
wounds  General  Trdpoff  in  the 
cause  of  Russian  freedom,  415 ; is 
tried  and  acquitted,  416 ; effect 
of  her  act,  416. 

Zemstvos,  the  provincial  councils, 
institution  of,  180  ; hampered  by 
the  central  government,  310-312. 

Zhdduoff,  Senator,  164. 

Zheltdkhin,  General,  director  of 
the  corps  of  pages,  73,  108,  112. 

Zurich,  girl  students  at,  260,  261, 
269;  full  of  Russian  students, 
269  ; Kropotkin  visits,  274. 


■■ 


• • 


i 


;i 


